Roommates?
by ThoughtCriminal
Summary: Rachel loses the bet and moves in with Al to avoid the coven.
1. It's Only Temporary!

Roommates

After BMS, Oliver reneges on his promises, and Rachel, despite her best attempts, has failed to get the coven off her back, moves in with Al.

Small note, I refuse to write Pierce unless he is dead or dying (I seriously doubt I could write his dialogue anyway!), so I'll lose some realism with that, but he will not be in this fic, only mentioned for credibility's sake. Simply assume Al has whored him out elsewhere since he is no longer needed to babysit Rachel.

Spoilers: Everything is fair game

Rated a hopeful M for eventual hell yeah moments

Chapter One: It's Only Temporary!

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Oh god. I still don't know what was going through my head. Of course, Jenks and Ivy both thought it was a terrible idea. I did too, I wanted to stay with them, in my church, my home for these two crazy years, but I knew I just couldn't risk them anymore. The last attempt had been bad enough, and now that Oliver was certain he had to take me out before the witches' meeting, it was only going to get worse.

I really thought I'd taken care of it that day in the FIB office, and my confidence had cost me. I had nearly kicked it when that human assassin got into the backseat of my rental car, well, Ivy's rental car since my license was revoked. Dumb luck on his part he even got that close, but I couldn't afford to make any more mistakes like that.

Only Pierce agreed with my decision, which oddly enough made me even more nervous about it. It was discomforting to think I trusted the man even less after I had slept with him, but there is was.

My overnight bag was already packed. Another backpack as well, since I couldn't convince myself to use my suitcase; it would seem too permanent. And a bag of groceries and snacks since I wasn't sure I could stomach grilled cheese and rancid coffee for days at a time.

My chest heaved in panic. I knew it was temporary, that Ivy or my mom could always summon me back if Al got pushy and kept me from jumping the lines of my own. But the witches' meeting was almost three months away. Was I really going to stay that long? Could my sanity stand it?

Guilt followed panic closely. Jenks was still getting over Mattie's death, and Ivy was Ivy, they both needed me, though both were too strong to admit it.

And there was another frightening possibility to consider. I had bet Al my stake in reality that I could get the coven off my back and my shunning removed. If I came crying to him now, he could take it as understanding that I'd lost the bet, and try to keep me with him, in the ever after, permanently?

I had taken my summoning glass out to contact Al, but it sat untouched on the counter. Jenks was nowhere to be seen, and Ivy was still trying to get the stains out of the rental car. They knew I planned for it to be today, but I didn't know how to do this. A clean, quick break seemed best, and I would be back. I would, damn it! But if I disappeared without a final goodbye, would they assume the worst? Ivy had helped me pack, but was the assumption there that it wasn't yet time?

But we really didn't have time to spare. I shuddered at the thought of the rental car, and seriously thought Ivy wasn't getting her security deposit back. The bastard Oliver hadn't even left me a vaguely threatening message, it had just happened, and I'd been shocked enough to even hesitate telling Glenn to file my blackmail trial paperwork.

But if I went into the ever after, then arrived, safe and whole at the witches' meeting…would it be enough? Or would I simply have put myself back into the coven's fanatic and increasingly inept hands?

God damn it, I didn't know. I'd thought I had it all fixed, would finally get my life back, but now I wasn't sure, and it scared me enough to…well, enough to think that the ever after was beginning to sound like a good, albeit temporary, escape plan.

Just get it over with, I told myself, and clenching my teeth, I picked up the mirror and focused, calling for Al.

He picked up immediately, and the vaguely ill-formed fear that he'd refuse me entirely evaporated at the eagerness he couldn't keep from his "voice".

_Itchy witch? _

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my frantic mind and keep my many worries to myself. _Al, crap's starting up again, _I managed to get out before his elation nearly drowned me out entirely.

_The coven is still after you? You're shunning is still in effect? _He asked, and didn't bother to wait for my reply, reading my bitterness and worry clearly from out connection. He laughed delightedly, and I thought about hanging up on him.

_Get your stuff, Rachel. I'll be there for you in a few minutes._

_I didn't lose! _I shouted at him, continuing before he got a chance to argue. _I'm still getting the shunning revoked, just not right now! It's just one dumb coven witch screwing this all up for me. I'll have it all under control when I go to the witches' conference. I didn't lose the bet! This is only temporary, damn it! _I was practically screaming at him, and took a deep breath, annoyed when I noticed my hands were shaking.

Al's cultured calm flitted back into my mind, radiating smugness, _You failed, and I won. Get your things, I don't want to make more than one trip._

"Bullshit!" I screamed out loud. Not wanting to worry Jenks or Ivy, I returned to thoughts, though if Al was really going to try and claim me, I wanted my roommates here with me. _You're taking things out of context, and you know it!_

It was like I could see his red goat-slitted eyes narrowing at me. _You agreed to the terms. Now try to act like an adult and don't welsh on your bet. _

"Forget it, I'm staying here. I won't accept you changing the game when I've already won," I said with more certainty than I felt.

_Fine, two trips. But don't bother with many clothes. I've a closet-full just for you._

Oh god, why the hell did he have clothes for me? This was all going downhill faster than a toboggan of dead vamps.

_Get it through your thick skull, _I "yelled" at him, and kept going with my momentum before he had a chance to get pissed at my less-than-respectful tone. _It's not permanent, just until this all blows over and I can get my shunning officially revoked at the witches' meeting. _On second thought, I added just to be safe, _You fricking offered in the first place, and you took back Pierce._

He was silent for long moments. Yeah, I realized I would be getting smacked around a bit next time I saw him. I glanced guiltily towards my bags, not really wanting to know what it said about me that my safest bet still was in the ever after with my now thoroughly pissed-off demon teacher.

_We'll talk about it later. Get your things, I'm not going to wait around all day. _Al said with a tone of finality I knew it wouldn't do any good to argue with. Without another word, he hung up and I was left alone in my kitchen, shaken and pissed with the situation in general. But I guessed that was as good an answer I was going to get from him for now. I'd worry about details later. I put down my mirror hurriedly on the counter and went to find Ivy to let her know about the change in plans.

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Chaptered fic in progress, but don't get your hopes up too much! I'm damn slow at chaptered fics, and 1/3 of them I fail to finish entirely. Though I have much love for the fanfiction, I have my real writing to do and go fricking crazy when fanfic plot bunnies take away from it. When this occurs, I then banish the fic from my mind a little too effectively. The best way to combat this is with lots of loving reviews so I finish quickly and don't get feeling guilty about how much time it's taking me.

I'm planning to do one update a week for a total of five chapters, wish me luck!


	2. A Deal's a Deal

Chapter 2

I felt his sense of triumph as the warmth of the line filled me and Al closed us both up in a protective bubble before I could react with my own. Now I was really getting worried. He'd been subdued in my kitchen, even taking hold of one of my bags without a fuss. But now that I was in the line with him, sharing emotions, I could feel him, and he was anything but subdued now. The vibes I was getting off him were damn near exuberant. I'd never felt such heady emotions from him before, and it frightened me even more. And I knew in return he could feel my fear and trepidation.

We came out of the line in his library. I wasn't sure what to think of this, but maybe he was still cleaning up the workroom. I glanced around quickly to make sure his large and grumpy gargoyle wasn't anywhere about. Satisfied we were alone, I did my best to glare at him, which was damn hard when he was standing too close, his red eyes staring down at me.

"I told you," I said firmly while snatching away my bag from him. "This is temporary, you didn't win, so don't act all…" I waved my hand around vaguely, unsure how to exactly categorize what I'd felt from him the line. It was his usual possessiveness, sure, but there had been more than that.

Al's red eyes narrowed at me, and one of his gloved hands grasped my chin before I could gasp in surprise. "You want respect. You want to learn to travel the lines. You want this, that, and the other things. Now, now, now," he said, the last bit in a mocking whine of my own voice. "If you want something, you'd best be prepared to sacrifice something in return, and right now you need to start acting like an adult, and that means honoring your word." Al's British accent was thick with the anger, and I wouldn't have been able to hold his eyes if he hadn't been forcing my chin up. I gulped, how screwed up was this, Al trying to lecture me on honor?

Just as suddenly as it was there, his hand was gone, and I stood there blinking stupidly. Al stood with his back to me, building up the fire.

"I'm not going back on my bet," I said in what I hoped was a calm voice. Al grunted noncommittally but continued with his task. I drew my eyes off his trim backside and stared at the sparks beginning to blossom under his skilled hands.

"I got one of the head Coven leaders to agree to get off my back in exchange for not dragging the Coven's name through the mud, and once the witches' meeting is held, my shunning will be officially revoked," I said with much more confidence than I felt. How would I get it revoked now that Oliver was apparently going back on his word?

"Fascinating, itchy witch," Al said dryly as he straightened up, taking off his gloves to warm his hands now that the fire was going strong. "But not relevant to your predicament any longer." He turned to me suddenly, and I couldn't help but take a step back. He blinked and smiled at me. "Let's go take a peek at your room, hmm? Get you all settled in?"

"My room?" I asked, completely dazed. I'd been expecting something, but sure as hell not that! Seeing him move to stand on the frightening face glyph he used as a door throughout his rooms, I lunged after him before he could disappear. "Al, wait!" I yelled after him. "I don't want a room!"

His firm gloved grip seized my elbow and pulled me to stand by him. I could feel the heat of his hand through his gloves anyway, and his grip tightened almost painfully when I tried to pull away.

I gasped at the suddenness of it. The room was small, almost dorm-sized but with furniture too nice to have ever seen the inside of a dorm. My few bags settled beside my feet, and Al pulled me into the center of the room to take it all in. The sharp smell of fresh paint and laundry almost hid the burnt amber emanating from Al. The walls had been painted a soft cream, and one wall was nearly covered in a purple and gold flowered tapestry. The bed was a twin, which made me feel slightly better, since I couldn't imagine Al trying to crawl into a twin bed with me.

Al released my elbow to begin poking about the room. My room, I reminded myself, and felt strangely possessive of it all of a sudden.

"Hey!" I shouted when he opened up one of the walls, revealing a closet almost the size of the room. I blinked in surprise. Oh crap, where those the clothes he was talking about?

Al ignored me and glanced through the closet briefly but thoroughly before closing it. I stood there, berating myself for my idiocy. What the hell had I been thinking? Al had gotten me a room, and he was always bitching about the cost of living space in the ever after. But he had bought me a room. God damn it, he really wasn't getting the whole "temporary" thing!

"Hurry and get cleaned up, itchy witch. We're going out," Al said, drawing out his snuff box and taking a discreet sniff while I stood there dazed.

"Out where?" I asked, not sure I could be shocked anymore in one day. The sudden, strong whiff of brimstone made me feel even more unreal for a moment.

"To eat, to celebrate your homecoming," he said with a grin that made my stomach drop. Before I could protest, he was gone, and I was standing in my new room in the ever after.

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Woot, I'm proud I got this one out so quick.


	3. First Date Jitters

My apologies, I've taken some liberties since the details I require do not currently exist in the canon.

Also, when rereading this, it might seem a little naughtier than I intended, but /shrug. All shall be revealed in due time?

Chapter 3 First Date Jitters

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Al had sent me back to my room three times already to change into something he considered more appropriate. I'm sure he would have tried to pick something out himself, but I'd already discovered the user interface for my room, which I wasn't completely sure whether it was a very advanced charm or just high tech, and had blocked him from entering. I would almost swear I could hear him bitching up a storm, even though I wasn't sure how literal things like doors and walls were yet since Al's "doors" consisted of more local line travel. But at least I'd figured out to change the ugly glyph that designated my door into Al's space; instead of the screaming face I now had a nice, orange geometric design that looked like part of the decoration of the room.

I yanked open the closet door and scanned the contents hurriedly. My growling stomach was the only thing keeping me playing Al's control game. I was hungry but also curious, and while I'd seen the demon mall once, Al had never brought me out to eat. I was on the fence about ever after food in general; the coffee Al made was rank, but the cheese sandwiches had been tasty. Hopefully, Al was bringing me some place where the food was actually edible; I'd brought some snacks, but they wouldn't last if I had to rely on them everyday.

Al had already rejected me in jeans, my working leathers, and these black silky pants I'd thought were damn nice. The closet had some casual stuff, but most of the space held dresses. I sighed, most of them were okay, and a far sight better than what I'd found in the dresser. I reddened just at the memory of drawer after drawer of silk underwear, lingerie, and things more easily defined by their lack of material. I'd opted for a pair of my normal cotton undies, not because I didn't like silk and lacey underthings, but because I sure as well wasn't going to wear ones Al had picked out for me.

I cocked my head to the side, listening to the strange melodic beeping. I turned, and saw my room interface blinking like an answering machine with a message. Thankful for the respite from trying to pick out something Al wanted and I would actually wear, I pushed the glowing button, wondering if I had a message from the ever after welcoming committee or something like that.

"Student?" Al's unmistakable voice filled my room. Damn it. I scanned the control panel but didn't see any useful buttons marked "end call."

"Al, where's the hang-up button on this thingy?" I asked sweetly.

Al's growl sounded like it was coming from all around me. "Take my name off the banned list."

My witty reply was lost to Al's icy calm, "Now." Damn, he really was pissed.

"I'm not sure how," I said, which was mostly truthful.

His colorful swearing made me even more nervous. I glanced helplessly at the room interface again before heading back into the closet.

"What are you doing?" Al demanded, and I jumped.

"Um, looking for something to wear," I said, and suddenly had the terrible paranoid idea he could see me as well as hear me.

Al's anger evaporated as quickly as it had come. "The purple silk one, love, with the slit skirt."

I found said silk dress in the front of the closet and let it fall into a puddle of silken decadence on the floor. No way. It was more empty space than dress. "Hell no, try again," I said, feeling a bit of smile tug at my face. Al was a pain in the ass, but it was kind of funny having him try to negotiate with me while he was locked out.

"If you'd just let me back in…" he huffed.

"You don't need to be in my room. I can dress myself," I asserted, running my hands over another dress, this one gray, which seemed to be a popular color in the closet, damn Al. I unzipped my pants and started trying to shuffle into the dress, deciding it was nice despite the crap color.

I froze suddenly, my naked back feeling glazed with ice. It was too damn quiet.

"Al?" I asked, concerned. I was understandably worried about what he might be up to if he wasn't throwing temper tantrums outside my "door" anymore.

"Yes, love?" he purred back, and I flushed despite myself. Damn it, I knew he couldn't see me, he was just listening, but that was still weird, listening to me getting dressed. I pulled the dress the rest of the way up and strode over to the interface, smacking the lit-up button with a bit too much force. It winked out, and I waited, hearing nothing and glad for it.

There was a mirror in my extravagant closet, and after I finished adjusting the dress, I must admit I looked damned good. Maybe too good for going out with Al, but I honestly couldn't remember the last time I'd dressed-up to go out somewhere nice that hadn't ended in an attempt on my life. And it could be interesting to see what passed for a restaurant in the ever after, as long as Al would behave himself. Which I had to admit was just as likely as it raining little blue butterflies in July.

I pulled a bit a my hair, giving up trying to make it look tidy but at least trying to make it look artfully untidy. Oh well, Al was always bitching about my appearance, if he wanted my hair tame he could damn well stir up the charm for it. Ready, I hesitated, unsure what sort of reception was waiting for me. Was he really pissed I banned him from my room? Would me all dressed-up help alleviate some of his general pissiness? Or would he not approve of this dress too, and send me back to try again? I shook my head, tired of trying to figure out what Al would do. It didn't matter that I saw him every week, had to deal with him almost constantly while dodging the coven, and now was staying in a room adjacent to his own; I still had no idea what to expect from him.

I used my door glyph to jump back into his rooms. At least he hadn't been inspired by my own childish display and banned me from his rooms in return. I was back in his library, the firelight dancing energetically across the walls and making the shadows seem thicker in the circular space that held his many books. I scanned the room, but his tall, muscular figure was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was in his own room changing? I'd never seen Al's bedroom before, and though recklessly curious, I knew I didn't really want to see it either.

I shrieked like a ten-year-old girl when his heavy hand clapped down forcefully on my bare shoulder.

"Finally, I swear, Rachel, you're worse than…well, I guess you are a primping debutante?" Al leered down at me, his wide grin showing his big, blocky teeth.

I slapped his hand away. He hadn't sent me back in though, so I supposed I passed? His red goat-slitted eyes were taking me in, his gaze traveling up and down and lingering enough to make me blush despite my irritation.

"Well?" I finally asked. I told myself I wasn't going to change anyway. I was done with dress-up for tonight. If he sent me back to change, I'd lock myself in and spend the night reading one of the Nancy Drew books I'd commandeered back from Ivy and munching on yogurt covered raisins. He'd really be pissed then, but it would dash this control fantasy of his into bits of pixie dusted crap.

"You look exceptionally lovely, Rachel," he said, and my mouth popped open into a giant, unflattering "o" of surprise. Of all things, I hadn't been expecting that.

"Uh, thanks?" I managed weakly, my gaze darting to everything but him now. He hadn't changed, exactly, but he was dressed to the nines in his pristine green velvet and lace, his boots freshly polished and the little buckles winking in the firelight. I dared bring my glance to his face, saw his hair looked softer somehow, and curled slightly near his ears like he'd run a hand through it once too many times. He eyed me speculatively over his ubiquitous glasses, and I looked away, again. Damn.

"Let's depart then, we don't want to be too late, or they'll give our table away," Al said crisply, offering me his velvet-clad arm in a seemingly proper and gentlemanly display. Not that I believed that for minute. The knowledge he'd made a reservation sat heavy in my stomach. Just what had I gotten myself into? When I'd refused his arm for long seconds, he huffed and grabbed a hold of me anyway. I huffed in return. He was a pushy bastard. Then we were in the lines, and I tried to keep my thoughts and roiling emotions to myself.

Then we were there, and I was blatantly disappointed. It wasn't in the mall, and we were already apparently underground again, so I wasn't going to be getting any better an understanding of how these buildings actually worked. It looked like a restaurant that had once been damn fine but had fallen on hard times and was only still attracting its more devout customers. I felt my interest perk up again, maybe Al had history here? If he did, would he ever tell me?

The long, sunken, oval room was dim, and crowded with demons and their familiars. I already had imagined the headache I could have from the stink, but when I breathed in, tentatively, I was surprised and relieved. The burnt amber was there, but not overpowering, and I worried I was getting used to it until I saw the censers burning throughout the room. I sniffed again and could clearly make out sage and patchouli. It actually smelled kind of nice.

We were seated immediately, and despite my anger at him, I stuck close to Al as we navigated past the filled tables. I also attracted way too much attention whenever Al dragged me to parties, and it was just as bad here. I didn't even bitch at him when he pulled my chair out for me. I sat down, curiously looking around until Al brought my attention back to him but pulling his chair too close next to mine. Our legs brushed under the table, and I pulled away, glowering at his grin.

But I did want to kick him when he ordered for me, but I was afraid he'd take it as an attempt to play footsie. Some demon I was fairly certain I hadn't met caught Al's attention from a nearby table, and they exchanged words in strangely discordant language. I hunkered down in my chair, forgetting about any idea that this was going to be fun. I just wanted this night to be over, and then I could go back to hiding in my room and trying to dream up plans for getting the coven off my ass.

Al said something that made the other demon chuckle darkly. I tried to hide the shudder when both demons turned their red eyes on me and settled instead for not sinking to hide under the table.

A man, not a demon, I learned with a quick glance at his eyes, brought our food damn quick. It figured, no demon would want to play waiter. I sipped at my water to postpone trying my dinner, but grimaced at the mistake. The water here was always bad, thick as it was with the stink of burnt amber. Al was watching me with uncommon interest, and I stared back down at my mystery meal. It looked like chicken, and I hoped it was. God, this was going to be a long…week? Hopefully not month, and I knew I'd never last the three months before the witches' conference.

Al watched me debate over my food, and sighed with something like relief when the waiter came back with two glasses and a wine bottle.

"Try this, love. It'll put the shimmer back in your eyes," Al said, carefully pouring me not even half a glass. I took the glass carefully, frowning slightly at his high-handedness. I swear, if he tried to cut up my vegetables for me, I was gonna deck him one with the wine bottle.

"Cheers, love," Al said, and downed his full glass, his making it seem as if it were in fact edible. I wasn't convinced, and sipped at my glass, not feeling too sure about it since I couldn't even read the label on the wine bottle. It wasn't English or Latin, and that was pretty much the full extent of my linguistic abilities.

But it was nice. Sweet like wine but stronger and smooth going down. There was also something vaguely fruity about it, blackberries, I thought. Okay, the ever after had decent alcohol, which I knew I couldn't indulge too much in, but damn, it made my outlook much less bleak.

Al murmured something that I didn't catch. I was glaring a bit at the ceiling, just now noticing there were no lights up there. But there was certainly light in the room, but I just couldn't pin down the source. I had the silly urge to check under the table, but stopped myself just in time.

"Rachel?" Al asked again, and I could just hear his concern through the sudden warm glow that had come out of nowhere and saturated the world with its golden mellowness of goodness. O crap, I was wasted five minutes into dinner.

"Hmm?" I asked, not really trusting my tongue with words. I thought about trying to sit up straighter, decided it wasn't worth the effort, and seriously thought if I said little to nothing Al might not catch on that I was drunk on half a glass of whatever it had been he'd given me.

I focused in with ridiculous attention to his lips, trying to hear what the hell it was he was saying. No luck, everything was one pleasant buzz of unremarkable background noise. Al's red eyes narrowed, and I giggled a little, I couldn't help it. I put a hand over my mouth to keep from saying anything else, but then suddenly didn't care so much about staying quiet when the table collided with my forehead. Ouch.

Al's hands were on my bare shoulder in moments, pulling me up. I jerked back in surprise, almost falling out of my chair. His hands were hot, almost uncomfortably so. I studied the dark skin so close to my face for what felt like long minutes, wondering again if he really was the big naked scary demon man he had used to scare Treble, of if it was all show. Maybe he'd tell me, if he had more to drink. It was damn good after all. I tried to gesture towards the bottle, and Al, totally misunderstanding, snatched it away from me and awkwardly got me to my feet. I could feel the red eyes from all over the room focusing in on us, but for once it didn't make me nervous.

I was giggling like an insane hyena when Al finally pushed me into a line, and when we came back into our bodies, all I found feel was the warmth of him pressed up behind me and his arms wrapped tight around my middle. I had the vague feeling I might puke, but Al's too warm hands were pulling my hair aside and he was whispering in my ear. I shuddered and tried to turn away, his warm breath tickling my neck enough to induce another fit of giggles. I didn't remember closing my eyes, but soon there was only the soft trickle of his voice in my ear and his warm hands and strong arms cradling me against him.

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This fic is going to be more chapters than I'd originally planned, which is both good and bad. Good, cause yay, more Ral fun, bad because I no longer have a clear ending in sight. I am open to suggestions, and also still offering trades for a time machine.


	4. Strange Bedfellows

Another shorter chapter, but hopefully a good one.

Thus continues the chronicles of a drunk Rachel and a seductive Al…

Chapter 4: Strange Bedfellows

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Oh my god, I woke up with the queen bitch mother of all hangovers. Worse, I was in a strange bed, my new bed in the ever after, and I wasn't alone.

"How the hell did you fit us both in a twin?" I moaned groggily. My mouth tasted like it had been coated in rotten fruit and ashes.

Al sighed in my ear, and I shuddered. I tried to pull away from him, but we were snuggly spooned, and I was closest to the wall, trapped between a demon and a hard place. Actually, trapped between two hard places. I squirmed, trying to put distance between me and the empirical evidence that demons get morning wood. Al cursed when I elbowed him in the gut, but wrapped his arms more tightly around my middle, pulling me into him even more snuggly and smothering my uncoordinated thrashing.

"You're not even allowed in my room!" I yelled, then regretted it, my own voice echoing like damnation in my head.

"Teacher's prerogative, dove. Do go back to sleep? You're not the only one with a hangover," Al murmured into my ear, and I tried to elbow him again when he planted a small kiss on my jaw.

"You're a bastard," I grumbled without any effect. "A fricking bastard. A fairy fart sniffing bastard!" My head was still swimming. Damn, how long had I been out?

"Mmm," was his only response, his voice muffled because his face was buried in my hair.

I closed my eyes in frustration, but had to open them again suddenly. Al was warm, the bed was soft, and despite how pissed I might feel about the whole situation, my tired and abused body was grateful for it. I couldn't trust myself to stay awake if I started resting my eyes.

But then the realization hit and I was suddenly cold and sleep was the furthest thing from my mind. I wasn't in my grey silk dress anymore. I was in a cream- colored night gown that was softer than anything I'd ever worn before, and I was in bed, with Al. Panic choked me, but only for a minute. Then headache or not, I yelled and struggled against him, taking him by surprise and getting in a few good shots.

"You asshole!" I yelled, trying to pull away from him. I was going to kill him. I was going to freaking kill him!

"Rachel! What is your problem, you spastic witch?" Al gasped in surprise, grabbing hold of both my wrists when I tried to get a grip on his throat.

"I can't believe you, Al. I fricking trusted you!" I screamed, successfully getting one hand free and landing a decent hit right under his left eye. He winced but held on, and soon had my other hand recaptured as well, pulling me into his chest and holding both my arms over my head. Which really wasn't that smart of a hold, since I was pissed enough to start biting.

"Love, if I'd taken advantage of your inebriated state, you'd damn well know it," Al responded with a dark chuckle, and pushed his lips against my forehead when I shuddered against him. My soused brain took a minute, but I thought it through. I was tired, felt icky, needed to pee, but I wasn't sore at all, something I'd expect if I'd been having passed-out sex with a demon. No, I thought after evaluating myself, I was just hung-over. But I was still so entirely pissed at him for taking off my dress. Slowly, as if to gauge my reaction, he released my wrists, placing one arm form around my middle before I could pull entirely away, but the other had wandered, and started stroking up and down my hip. God damn it.

"You were too far gone to remember, Rachel. But you puked all over your lovely dress. I couldn't very well leave you like that," Al murmured softly, and I felt my face glow with embarrassment. Somehow this was even worse than half of Cinci and untold pervs on the internet seeing my naked Fountain Square picture. Knowing Al had seen me naked, and had cleaned me up, changed me into pajamas like a child…god I was never going to live this down.

I tried to glare up at him, but his eyes were closed despite the rhythmic stroking of his hand. His face was almost vulnerable with his red eyes hidden; I could count on one hand the number of times I'd seen him like that. He looked genuinely relaxed, ready to drift off to sleep, though I was still uncertain as hell about demon sleep patterns. They seemed to do it as little was possible. It was somehow nice being like this, with him, and that scared me silly.

"Al, let go," I said, trying to shift away from him. Surprise, surprise, he didn't listen to me, didn't even crack an eyelid, but continued sliding his big warm hand up and down my side.

"You've caused me trouble enough, itchy witch. I'm not hurting you, you can stay put for a bit longer," he said, his hot breath above me and tickling along my neck where he had brushed my hair aside. It was strange, usually anywhere this close to him the stink of burnt amber was enough to make me gag. God, I hope I wasn't getting used to it.

"Al," I said, glad my face was hidden, nearly buried in his chest. "I have to pee," I said, hoping it didn't sound like the whine it was, and Al groaned in defeat as he finally released me, letting me climb awkwardly over him to get out of bed.


	5. Morning Interlude

Sorry, this is a weak chapter, but I wanted to get something posted to assure you all that I haven't forgotten or given up on this fic. But I'm getting lazy with all these new, fun Ral fics out there. I don't have to write em all anymore yay!

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I passed out again, after I managed to make that dumb screaming face (my pretty geometric design had apparently reset to Al's control glyph) bring me into Al's ridiculously lavish and modern bathroom, and after I got a griping Al out of my bed. I don't know what the hell they put in wine in the ever after, but I swear I'm a strict teetotaler for the rest of the time I'm stuck here.

When I finally woke again, I had a nasty headache but was otherwise recovered from my first taste of demon spirits. I felt gross though, and wanted to get cleaned up. My room didn't have its own bathroom, I'd been making use of Al's. But I'd never showered in his before. He had a Jacuzzi tub too, but I wasn't feeling ballsy enough to try that out. Yet.

It hadn't come up, but I was assuming Al had a way to know when I was in his damn bathroom. I couldn't imagine how the hell to "lock" that face glyph which got on my nerves more and more every time I had to use it. So I rushed through my shower, scrubbing ineffectively at the burnt amber smell I suspected I was getting too accustomed to and half the time terrified Al was going to come barging in to take a leak. But such are dangers of having a demon roommate. God, it had only been one day, and I'd gotten drunk, puked on myself, and had Al in my bed. How the hell was I going to survive the three months until the witches' conference? I knew I could always go back. The alien environment of the ever after always made me homesick. But running back to the church would solve nothing, and worse, I'd needlessly be risking Ivy and Jenks. I just wish I could talk with them, but of course, on top of having and ugly red sun, nasty coffee, and crazy demons, the ever after had no cell phone reception.

But maybe I could ask Al about a charm to talk with them…It worked with my summoning mirror, so why not? I wasn't sure if he'd go for it. But also, I didn't really want to ask him. I didn't really want to see his face after last morning or night or whatever. It was creepy and upsetting, sure, but my face also flushed with the memory of Al's strong arms wrapped around me, holding me tight against him. And that was a very bad thing to be thinking. Avoidance and repression seemed safest.

But as I also quickly discovered, if I didn't leave my room, sure I wouldn't have to deal with Al and the awkward aftermath of him seeing me naked and then waking up all cozy and safe in his arms, but I would be bored out of my fricking skull. I tried to read some of the Nancy Drew's I'd snatched back from Ivy, but apparently they're more interesting when you're eight. I gave in and opened up my snack bag, munched down a granola bar and half a peanut butter sandwich. I thought I'd be hungrier after not eating my dinner last night, but maybe the alcohol was still turning my stomach.

I was pacing about, looking for the third or fourth time at all the little details on my dresser and bed, putting away the few things I'd packed, and diddling around with my room interface trying to get rid of that dumb screaming face again. My interface assured me Al was still on the banned list. I had no idea how the hell he'd managed to get in anyway. Him and his "teacher's prerogative". So not fair.

I was about to slump back into bed and laze about for an unknown amount of sluggish time when my interface starting blinking it's friendly little blue light at me.

I had to catch myself and ease my hand away from the little gizmo that seemed to bring speech into the room. It was probably Al, and I very much did not want to talk to him, see him, or even think about him right now. Maybe I could tell him I still felt sick? It wasn't anywhere near Saturday, but I was sure he'd want to start playing school again, but maybe he'd let me play hooky longer if he thought there was a danger I'd puke all over him?

But as much as I'd like to deny it, curiosity won out over common sense, as it mostly does with me. I turned the dial and cringed, waiting for Al's pissed voice to fill my room like a theater with first-rate acoustics. I almost didn't notice the slight tug of ley line energy the interface tapped from me before my command went through. I hadn't noticed it before, but it made sense the demons would have more charmed stuff than high tech goodies. Their giant demon collective was nothing but a public curse after all.

"Rachel?" asked a voice, and it was fuzzy and sounded distant. And it certainly wasn't Al.

"Uh, yeah?" I asked, placing my hand back on the dial and jerking away suddenly when it pulled from me again, sudden enough to feel like a big static shock.

"You're breaking up, dear. Keep near the interface, feed it a small, but steady stream of power, that's it," the voice said over my interface. It did sound much clearer if I stayed in contact with the interface, and it didn't zap me anymore if I didn't sudden take its power source away either.

"Much better," the male voice I totally knew and seriously hoped wasn't really calling me said.

"Dali?" I asked, feeling unsure and worried and not pleased either way about it.

"Who else, Rachel? But then, since you've matured enough to move in with Al, I expect there will be nothing but growing interest in you. And then after showing off what a cheap date you are last evening, I wouldn't be surprised if your inbox was filled each day," Dali said pleasantly. Not only did it seem to be generally known I was here in the ever after, more or less permanently, but also that I get totally wasted off half a glass of demon wine. I wanted to smack my head against the wall.

"What do you want?" I asked, not even trying to be polite. Dali creeped me out, not as much as Newt, but still. And I think he used to be Al's teacher or something, which didn't give him any gold stars in my book.

Dali chuckled, as if my tone only amused him. But before I could tell him off, he got to the point. "Why, I just wanted to invite you out. I'm throwing a party in three days time, and I hope it's not too short notice, but I'd just love for you to come," Dali's voice was all sweetness and sunshine but I felt a lump form in my throat. Was he inviting me, alone? Al brought me along to parties more than I cared for, but I almost never went anywhere without him in the ever after. As much as I hated to admit it, I felt naked without him. And way too vulnerable. Like a hen in a yard full of cocks. Literally. Ick.

"You can, of course, bring Al along, if it makes you more comfortable, but I just thought I'd offer you some away time from your teacher. We both know he can be a bit overbearing," Dali said with a chuckle, as if we were sharing some private joke.

"I'll think about it," I said more decisively then I felt, then flicked the little double ridge I'd thought was a vent the day before. I smiled genuinely at the usually annoying beeping one gets from disconnecting a call. Hanging up on people was fun no matter how old you got.

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Sorry, no Al in this chapter, but this is a building-block sort of chapter. I'll have the next one up in a few days. I tentatively promise tastiness and naughty fun. Thanks Silvia Kundera for the review. Your comments got my devious little mind shitting out some plot bunnies =D


	6. Party Pooper

Chapter 6 Party Pooper.

It was hard not to notice the drinks, they were everywhere, and colored radiantly and arranged in a circus-tumbler's idea of the artistic in pyramids and spirals of champagne glasses. It was breathtaking, but I tried not to look too much, tried not to allow curiosity much free reign. I wasn't drinking shit at this party, not even if I thought it was just water. Yep, I was that paranoid.

But I had reason to be paranoid. I was dressed up, again, with Al, now at Dali's party, and I had been told it was a very rare thing for him to throw one. Apparently even demons are workaholics sometimes. Still, even with a possessive Al at my side, I didn't like being amongst other demons. All those red eyes and weighty gazes just made my skin crawl. I guess it shows how screwed up my life is that I feel safe with Al.

Al hadn't pushed as much concerning my wardrobe this time. As I reminded him, repeatedly, I had the invitation, not him. I had told him plainly that if he pissed me off, I'd go alone. Amazing how quickly that little threat got a response. So I was wearing what I wanted. I had to compromise some, it was a dress after all. But it was a long dress, all lilac with stunning bits of embroidery in gold and with little buttons up the front. It looked vaguely Japanese, and I loved it, and Al didn't even complain when I came out of my room with it. I did have high heels on though, thinking the shoes that matched it looked too much like ballet slippers.

We did fight a bit about my hair though. I refused to let him play with it and he refused to leave the house while I was my usual frizzy self. Finally, I'd let him do a curse to tame it after he'd shown me the curse in his book and I watched to make sure nothing gross went into while he bitched the entire time. So now we were a good forty minutes late, which Al kept huffing about.

But despite his complaints, Al seemed fairly pleased to be here. It was a small group compared to some of the parties he'd dragged me to already. And I guess Dali was one of the higher-up muckety-mucks, but that meant Al would want to spend the night mingling, and I hated mingling. As awkward as it was with the demons, it was worse with the familiars. What the hell was I supposed to say, hello, lovely evening, enjoying your eternity of magical servitude and sexual slavery?

"Smile, Rachel, " Al coached me with a grin as he wheeled me over to one of the long tables holding the intricate drink displays and a lavish spread of pastries and treats. It was hard to find real food at a demon party; they all seemed to be sugar junkies of such caliber to challenge pixies.

"Oh look, itchy witch, cake! Let me cut you a slice, hmm?" Al's warm voice tickled at my ear, but he was gone before I could push him away. We hadn't spoken about the bed incident, but he was trying to touch me more, get closer, as if to experiment how much he could get away with now. Pushy demon bastard.

And sure enough, there was cake, four different types to choose from. And sure enough, Al cut me a giant slice of a chocolate decadence monster that had to be five or six layers. Great, what the hell was I going to drink with that?

"Here you are, my itchy witch," Al said and produced a napkin and fork with unneeded flourish. Always such a showoff. I eyed the cake warily glanced at Al's grinning face and tried a bite before I could chicken out. It was delicious and way too rich to be eating without a gallon of milk at hand. I was going to take another bite or two just to not waste the whole thing, but I felt more eyes on me. I glanced around and felt my face start to glow. Damn near every demon in the room had his eyes on me, and it was not a nice, indifferent gaze, but calculating, and in some cases, openly lustful. I put the cake down and turned to Al. I wanted to yell at him, like he had staged it, and maybe he had. Hell, maybe he was the president of the chocolate fetish club, for all I knew. But it wasn't a rational anger, it was trepidation masquerading as anger.

I pulled Al closer, and his red-slitted eyes widened in surprise before they became sultry. My grip on his arm was firm, but loosened when he raised his hand to brush a stray curl from my face, pausing long enough to run a finger under my chin, leaving a little trail of warmth that did nothing to better my mood. I tried not to growl, but my voice came out a hoarse whisper anyway. "You have thirty seconds to get me the hell out of here before I throw the cake into the nearest face and start smashing glasses." If they wanted something to stare at, I'd damn well give it to them!

Al grinned, but I could see his nervousness in the tightness around his eyes and the sudden clench of his jaw. "Be reasonable, Rachel. Everyone is oh-so-curious about you. And since you're such a party pooper, they never get much of a chance to…look at you," Al said mildly enough, but there was enough suggestion in that last bit to make my jaw clench.

"Twenty seconds," I hissed back, and Al stood still for a split second, weighing my threat. Part of me wanted him to hesitate longer. There was a man… I mean a demon, I'd never seen before, sitting in an armchair nearest the tables. They were all watching me, but he was the worse, and the nearest. His bright red eyes were piercing, and they traveled up and down my body like a maniac fairy during migration season. He had his long, leather-clad legs spread out, and his hand resting oh-so-casually on his lap as if to bring attention to his giant bulge. It was him I wanted to throw the cake at and maybe a glass of champagne too. I wanted to get it in his eyes, make him shriek in indignation so he could see how it feels.

But Al was smart, and grabbed my elbow, steering me out of the room amid a few grumbles and one shouted reply of what I think was "share" in a strange accent. Yeah, demon parties give me the creeps, for a damn good reason.

Al didn't jump us home or even take one of the weird portal glyphs to another room. Dali's house was apparently arranged in a more traditional manner, with rooms actually connecting it seems. Hell, maybe it was the fad at the time, and Al, being broke, was behind the times.

But Al stopped us suddenly, coming around a corner out of a long hallway into a room looking out on what appeared to be a garden at nighttime. He had to stop because he'd damn near run down Dali, who was all smiles again. Which of course made me even more suspicious. This whole crap fest had been his idea. I frowned just to contrast his easy smile.

"Al, Rachel, so nice to see you both," Dali beamed at us. He looked like he had the last and only time I'd seen him before when Al was brokering out the deal that gave him his teacher's rights over me. The middle-aged but still trim looking older man, with just enough gray flecked through his hair to say "experience" but not "grandpa" looked friendly, even harmless, which was total bullshit.

"Capital party, old man," Al said agreeably. He jostled my arm, but I didn't say anything and kept my frown firmly in place.

"But I do hope you're both not leaving us so soon?" Dali asked, his smile still in place but just the right amount of concern touched his eyes, made the few wrinkles there stand out against his uniform tan. He would have looked totally normal, like a benign coach for a kids' tee-ball team, except for his red goat eyes. Watching him play the part so well, I suddenly thought it was very bad idea to have come here in the first place.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Just taking Rachel out for some fresh air," Al explained, his clipped British accent suggesting I shouldn't make a fuss about it.

Is that where we were going? I was sure I appreciated the sentiment, but it seemed there was no fresh air in the ever after anyway. Even if every time I'd been on the surface hadn't been a life-or-death all-or-nothing situation, I still wouldn't have wanted to hang around. It was just nasty up there. But then my curiosity poked it's too long nose into the matter. I thought all demons, except for the really unlucky ones, lived underground. How the hell could Dali have a garden underground? Maybe it was all illusion, like his "casual Friday" office on the beach?

So I didn't lag when Al guided me towards the door, but I spun around when I felt another hand, a hand I didn't know, touch my shoulder.

"Rachel, you've a bit of chocolate on your lovely face," Dali said, all pleasantness and mild interest.

But before I could raise my hand to brush it away though, Dali beat me to it, his large hand rising to my face and a single finger brushing along my upper lip. "There, much better," Dali said with a grin and turned to head back to his party.

Both Al and I stood frozen. I looked up at Al's face and was quite shocked to see him looking as confounded as I felt. What the hell had that been? Was Dali just messing around, trying to upset Al, who he knew had every cause to be ridiculously possessive, or had he just been looking for an excuse to touch me?

"Yes, well. Some fresh air," Al said, clearly baffled. But he recovered quicker than I, and offered me his arm again. "Shall we, Rachel?" he asked smoothly, but I could still see the tightened worry lines near his eyes. I took his arm and let him guide me out into the nighttime garden, where hopefully the air was fresh and would help clear my mind of that disturbing little incident.

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sorry, the naughtiness keeps getting delayed in favor of plot. that's just how it seems to be with chaptered fics =P


	7. Midnight in the Garden

Midnight in the Garden…

"Is this real?" I asked in awe. The smell of green, living things and night-blooming flowers perfumed the air and covered-up the ubiquitous stink of burnt amber. Two large trees that looked like maples framed the door, but they were coated in largish, faintly yellow flowers. I looked up, and instead of a high ceiling I could see a velvety blue night sky draped with wisps of clouds and dotted with the faint luminance of stars. I could hear water nearby, could even smell the crisp freshness of quantities of moving water.

"Yes," Al said, and if I wasn't mistaken he sounded a bit put off.

"Not an illusion?" I asked again, hardly believing it. Dali's garden was amazing. I couldn't even begin to guess at the size of it. It was more like a park! I could see a colonnade of marble pillars lining a footpath; moonflowers bigger than my fist were encircling the marble, their vines and delicate little leaves faintly silver in the moonlight and looking like exotic white snakes.

"It's his conservatory," Al explained, taking my yanking on his arm as a hint and guiding me down the path. I could hear the water more clearly; it sounded like a waterfall. I bet Dali had koi too.

"Wow, this is a conservatory?" I said aloud, previously having associated the word with my high school's 4H club's little ramshackled greenhouse. Al harrumphed and kept a firm grip on my arm as I tried to wander off the footpath. I could see pink ladies, violets, and clover in little clumps under the feet of massive trees I had no name for.

"Is your conservatory like this?" I asked, and looked back at Al just in time to see the pinched dislike on his face.

"No, love." Al said, his precise accent harder now, making him sound pissed. But in light of Dali's little escapade, maybe it was jealousy? I shuddered though it wasn't cold. It was pleasant "out" here, not the mugginess of still air one expects to find in a greenhouse.

Al released my arm for a moment, but glared at me, quashing any hopes I had of wandering off. His gloved hands fished in his pockets a moment before pulling out his snuffbox. I wrinkled my nose and he lifted a brow at me, annoyed but otherwise ignoring me as he took a pinch and the tang of brimstone filled the air.

"You see, itchy witch, not many can hope to attain Dali's level of prominence," Al explained smoothly, the annoyance and anger now gone from his voice, making me think that in addition to all other things, most demons were substance abusers. But then, maybe all the brimstone inhalation cut down on the burnt amber smell.

"Dali's conservatory is just about the finest you could hope to find in the ever after, though there are some who bicker about his orchid cross-breeds or the lack of aesthetics of his flowering shrub placements."

"But the sky's blue," I pointed out. Al reached out to reclaim my arm, and I let him continue to lead me down the path.

Al glanced up and sighed dramatically. "That part is illusion," Al admitted, but before I could ask any of the questions burning on my tongue, I gasped as we came around a turn in the road and I saw the waterfall.

It looked like a natural cliff face, the rock wall jutting above the trees and beyond. Water gushed down the rocks, tumbling straight down in places or pooling and trickling elsewhere. The soft ripple of light on the water blended with the sudden sparks of moonlight catching the streaks of quartz generously streaking through the rock. Al led me to the railing, and I bent over it, looking down at the small lake below. I could see the quick flash of light of scales though couldn't tell if they were koi. There were pots of jasmine along the rail and an arbor of vines with red blooms that looked rather like gaping mouths with extended tongues.

"It's beautiful," I sighed, and didn't even pull away when Al leaned in closer, the side of his body warm against mine. I could feel his face just above my hair, the heat of his bare hand like a brand on my arm.

He sighed above me, and I felt the first trickle of fear drip down my spine. His free hand moved through my hair, gently running through the temporarily tamed curls. One arm moved around my waist, and without thinking about it, I leaned back into him when he starting nuzzling my hair, breathing in the smell of me as deeply as I had been breathing in the blooming smells of the garden.

"Al?" I asked, not liking how high my voice sounded. His other hand dropped my hair and also curled around my waist, pulling me firmly against him. I gasped and was glad he couldn't see my face. The feel of him through the thin material of my dress was exciting and frightening as hell, so warm as if he was feverish, the rigid lines of hard muscle, the bulge in the front of his pants hard enough I was sure he knew I could feel it.

"Hush, Rachel," he whispered, soft enough that it barely carried over the constant swirl of water. Al kept one arm firm around my middle, and the other one was tracing a slow line along my hip. Even through the dress material I knew he had his damn gloves off, again. And I knew it was only a matter of time before that hand tried to stray further. I drew in a deep breath, trying to find my resolve and previous anger. The rich scent of the nearby jasmine was intoxicating, but I could smell something else too, almost as strong, musky with a dash of what might have been cloves and cinnamon.

But suddenly that dangerous, roving hand was gone, and he turned me to face him. Staring up into his perfect, hard face and penetrating demon eyes, I knew I was blushing like a moronic teenage girl and the knowledge of it only made the blood rise faster.

"You're looking a bit winded, my incarnadine kitten. Let's sit, shall we?" Al asked but his grip was firm as he guided me over to the bench I hadn't seen tucked under the arbor. He pulled me down, and I saw it was more like a lounge than a park bench, and it was tucked discreetly away from plain view and safe from any spray from the water. I had a moment of panic, wondering if I was just being paranoid or if Al was really going to try it. He teased and flirted like it was going out of style, but I really never though of him as the type to risk a frontal assault. I didn't think he had really been that upset by Dali's gesture, and I knew he liked showing me off at parties. So I really didn't think he'd try it. But then his ungloved hands were in between us, unfastening the buttons of my dress before I could slap them away, and my shock was replaced by indignation.

"What the hell, Al?" I gasped, trying to pull away but only getting myself more vertical on the lounge with Al's weight pushing me down.

"Trust me, Rachel," Al said, his face looming above me, his eyes bright in the moonlight I kept forgetting was only an illusion. I tried to kick out, but he straddled my hips, one hand running under my dress to feel along my bare leg.

I had some damn fine words to yell at his dumb face about this, but his face was suddenly much too close, and then his lips were on mine, the heat from his mouth strangely echoing the path of heat he was tracing up my thigh. And like a dumb kid with her first crush, I was abruptly without protest, though his tongue pushing past my yielding lips and gently exploring my mouth might have also had something to do with my sudden stillness.

"What the hell?" I repeated when Al broke the kiss to nuzzle at my neck and slide one shoulder of the dress down, giving his roaming mouth more skin to caress. The front of my dress was open, and I forced one hand up in between us to pull the fabric close; I wasn't wearing anything under the dress up top, and Al sure as hell wasn't getting that much of a show.

"Like I said Rachel, it's that whole trust thing you were going on about," Al said, his breath hot and tickling against my ear.

"Al…" I tried to tell him to stop, but his mouth was forcefully on mine again, and what started as me pushing against him and struggling under his insistent mouth turned into me kissing him back, meeting his demand with my own. Damn it.

When he finally pulled away to let me breathe for a moment, I couldn't stop the whimper that escaped my mouth. This was friggin' nuts, and I was scared silly that Al was on top of me, seemingly intent of kissing me until my brains melt and taking off my clothes and he wasn't taking the hint that I didn't want him. But then, one could argue I wasn't giving very good hints.

His mouth was back at my ear, one hand gently pulling my hair back. I shivered when he planted a small kiss there and gasped when his tongue flicked out and traced the edge of my ear. I still had one hand between us, holding the front of my dress closed, but my other hand had traced up his back quite of its own volition. I dropped that betrayer hand and tried to push Al away but was as successful as trying to budge a boulder.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I shouted, my voice high with fear but nearly drowned out by the cascade of water.

"Relax, Rachel. You need to just trust me and play along," Al growled in my ear, but it was anything but relaxing. Play along? What the hell did he think he was doing?

Clearly he thought he was getting somewhere, cause his shirt was gone in a shimmer of red haze. My breath caught in my chest and I took a moment to stare at his bare chest, the perfect pale skin pressing into me, the hard muscles I'd only seen hints of before, his dark nipples brushing against me. Damn it, I didn't want this, and arguing with naked or half-naked men was not my strong suit. Al took my silent distraction as consent, and I yelped when the cold night air wrapped around my waist. I let go of my front to try and push the skirt back down, my face turning a tomato red when I saw Al smile when he noticed I was wearing one of the lacy pairs of panties he'd stocked my room with.

I struggled against him, and he took the opportunity to seize both my hands in one of his own. I tried to kick out, but he ground himself against me, hard. I could feel his erection clearly, our most delicate bits only separated by his pants and my minimal panties.

"Please, Rachel," he was whispering in my ear, and I froze for a moment out of shock. Did he really think I'd let him screw me because he's said please?

Al, the tactical master of seizing opportunity by the forelock, took my moment of confusion to open the front of my dress completely. The cold air on my bare breasts made my nipples peak painfully quick. The heat of his mouth was enough to make me gasp. The warmth of him and the rhythmic sucking was confusing, confusing because I knew I didn't want this, but my body was starting to have second ideas. Then he pulled from a line, spindled the energy from his busy mouth to my aching breast, and I was glad for a moment I couldn't move my hands, I might have touched him back. It was exquisite, having so much of me in his mouth and him pouring bits of himself back into me. I wanted to cradle his head in my arms and push the energy back into him, cycle the line through us until we were both screaming. But he had me fairly immobile. The hand that wasn't imprisoning both of mine was resting intently on the inside of my thigh, gently stroking but not yet daring to move past my panties.

I closed my eyes and stifled a moan. He switched to the other breast, giving it just as much devoted attention. "Al," I gasped, feeling light-headed and even more confused. "Keep your damn trouser snake away from me."

Al's laugh was muffled against my skin, but he lifted his mouth enough to respond, his eyes holding mine and damn near twinkling with laughter. "What if I promise he won't bite?"

I might have laughed too, but the hand on my thigh moved away, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper.

Al forced his mouth on me again, smothering my protests. I felt his body adjusting above me, and I shivered not entirely from fear when I felt his hard cock brush against my bare thigh.

"Softly, Rachel, so softly," he whispered against my lips, and I tried to blink away the tears in my eyes. Yeah, he was all bad boy hotness, and yeah, I admitted, some twisted part of me wanted him. But I hated that he wasn't giving me a choice, taking Dali's little performance as an opportunity to make it clear I was taken. For all I knew, the whole frickin' party was in the shrubs watching Al work.

Then his hand was there finally, pulling at my panties, and I felt like screaming. But someone did it for me.

"Get off her, you _cuculus!"_

And suddenly Al was gone. I yelped and fell off the lounge, pulling at my dress and trying to get most of myself covered. Most of the buttons were missing, the bastard.

Voices were raised, and I stood up, trying to see what the hell was going on. There were more people…err more demons, in the garden now. I strained my eyes, trying to see if Al was there. But I ducked back down, hiding behind the lounge. Newt's unmistakable androgynous form was there, her back to me as she peered over the railing. Oh shit, had she thrown Al that far?

"Hells bells, what is all this racket?" Dali's smooth, controlled voice cut in. People made way for him, and he fearlessly came to stand beside Newt. I could see his head tilt obsequiously, her angry gesture back towards the lounge. Dali's red demon eyes caught mine and I swear he was trying not to smile. What the hell? Had everyone really been watching? I was going to kill Al. That is, if Newt hadn't already done it.

Before I had a chance to really get concerned, I heard my demon's precise British voice shouting something I couldn't understand, but damn did he sound pissed.

Al appeared between the lounge and the railing, pointedly standing between me and Newt. I got shakily to my feet, one hand still awkwardly keeping the front of my dress closed. I might have felt better hiding, but everyone seemed to know I was there already, so no point in cowering behind the lawn furniture.

"She damn well knew what she was doing, and I want restitution from that bitch for interfering with my mating!" Al was yelling now that he was apparently done with the threats in the creepy language I thought must have been some native demonic tongue or something. I shivered a bit but it wasn't from the cold. Must not think anymore about tongues, demonic or otherwise.

But then his words penetrated my thick skull. His _what? _Is that what he'd meant by play along? Damn, I was going to kill him. He probably frickin' knew Newt and whoever else were near enough to see, or at least hear, and had set it all up, trusting Newt to freak out if she really thought me and Al were about to bump uglies. God, how far was had he planned on taking it? What if Newt hadn't stopped him?

Suddenly Al was beside me, and before I could freaking smash my fist into his face, he had an arm tightly around me.

"This could take awhile, dove. Why don't you go back and wait at home?" He made it sound like a suggestion, but he pushed me into the line and sent me back before I could get a four-letter word in edge-wise. The garden was gone, Al was gone, the crazy demon bitch was gone, and I was back in my room, alone. Damn it.

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Damn, I'm a tease, aren't I?

Wonder what happens next? Me too, so it might be a bit before the next chapter, sorries.

And a big thank you to VinylVictory. I'm properly contrite but I have stolen part of your Al's pet name for Rachel. There is just something about him calling her his kitty that I adore…


	8. Bathtime

Sorry it took so long, hope it's worth it.

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Chapter 8

I feel asleep waiting. And I woke up feeling nasty, in my torn and wrinkled dress with my shoes still on, sprawled out face-down on my bed. Damn it, I was making a habit of waking up to unpleasantness in the ever after. One more reason to get home quicker.

I had no idea if Al was home yet, and while curious as to what the hell had happened last night and actually wanting to hear his side of it, I mostly didn't want to see his dumb demon face again. God, what had he been thinking? Was he really planning on doing it right there in Dali's garden, whether I consented or not?

My head hurt even though I hadn't had anything to drink. I so just didn't want to think about last night. I felt like crap. It was time to test out Al's giant tub. Soaking would definitely improve my outlook on life right now.

I checked my interface out of habit since it seemed to be my little high-tech phone system. Two lights were blinking, but there was no call trying to go through. Pushing buttons almost at random didn't reveal anything I could make sense of, so I decided to ignore it and grabbed my bathroom stuff to take up residence in Al's tub for the foreseeable future.

Not being able to help myself, I first peaked into the library and the workroom. Al wasn't anywhere I could see, and I sure as hell wasn't going to check his bedroom. I retreated into the bathroom with mixed emotions. Damn it. I was confused, and pissed, and hurt. But then maybe I was just dumb for trusting a demon and being surprised when he took advantage. And what an advantage he had taken. I shivered, remembering our time in garden before Newt interrupted. I should have my head examined.

The tub was sunken black marble, and huge, and it took forever to fill. So I had plenty of time to snoop around in Al's bathroom, though it really wasn't that interesting. Anything that looked like a cabinet wouldn't open for me, surprise surprise. Guess I wouldn't be finding out what brand toothpaste Al favors. I had thought enough ahead to pack some bubble bath with my other toiletries, and I poured a few generous caps into the filling tub.

I couldn't get out of my dress quick enough, so I sat on the edge while the tub finished filling, dangling my feet in and sighing at the penetrating warmth of the water and the tickling mounds of bubbles expanding around my ankles. Steam was fogging up the mirrors and the goose bumps I'd gained when I'd undressed were already gone. I eased into the tub, moaning a little as the hot water covered me, feeling like it was seeping into my skin instead of just encasing it. I usually didn't have time to soak in a tub, but damn I needed to make more time for it.

I washed my hair first, just because I swore I could still smell the aroma of some of those night-blooming flowers from Dali's conservatory. With that taken care of though, I leaned back until the water was at my earlobes and just let myself relax. I wasn't going to think about Al or last night or Newt or the Coven or any other bullshit that had been plaguing me these last hard months. I wanted to close my eyes but was afraid I'd fall asleep, so I draped a dripping washcloth over my face instead, breathing in even more steam as if it could purge poisonous thoughts.

"Oh what a splendid idea, last night was rough," Al's cultured British tones tugged me from my reverie. I sat up with a yelp of surprise and indignation, then hunkered back down on second thought, seriously glad I'd thought of the bubble bath.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I yelled, wanting to pull even more bubbles closer to me but knowing that might leave bare patches of coverage for elsewhere.

Al raised an eyebrow at me, his face drawn and tired looking but also managing to look smug. "It's my bathroom, Rachel," he said simply, as if I'd managed to forget that. Even with my scented bubble bath, coconut shampoo, and lemon grass soap, everything still had the whiff of burnt amber, even the water. "And my tub. Scoot over," he added, smiling devilishly as he bent down to pry his boots off.

My mouth dropped open. It was a gigantic tub, there was enough room for ten people if they didn't mind brushing elbows, but I sure as hell wasn't going letting him get in here with me!

But he was planning to, and as I watched him unbutton his coat and drape it over the counter, I thought I might cry. It was just too much again, after last night, not being sure how I really felt about him, and having him betray me like that, and now, part of me really wanting him to get all naked and soapy with me and the other part completely terrified. And pissed. I was still pissed too, enough that my anger was still roiling under every other emotion.

My eyes were on him though, hypnotized as he undressed slowly. His red goat-slitted eyes watching me as I watched him. He undid the buttons of his shirt and slid it off, revealing the perfect muscled chest I'd seen last night. He placed his shirt on the counter as well, his movements slow and casual, but purposeful; we both knew what would be next. My face must have betrayed some of my turmoil, because his hands stopped at his fly, and I forced my eyes up to meet his.

"We need to talk about last night, Rachel. What better way than naked in the tub together?" he grinned, showing white blocky teeth, but his tone was plenty serious.

Before I could argue, he had his pants undone and was working out of them. My gaze was glued to his crotch even though I kept trying to stare over his shoulder or at the bridge of his nose instead. No underwear, but I guess it seemed right that Al would go commando, especially if he had planned last night's little adventure. Fewer clothes to get in the way. His thighs were heavily muscled like the rest of him, and his skin was perfect, unblemished, and as I remembered from last night, a soft contrast over so much unyielding muscle. Al stood completely naked and unapologetically half-hard in front of me, and I was torn between screaming at him to get out and screaming at him to hurry up and get his hot demon ass in the tub. Damn it, this was too much too deal with in the morning. As if agreeing, my stomach grumbled, a not-to-gentle reminder I'd gone straight to the tub and hadn't even thought about breakfast. I was almost out of snacks and had been making use of Al's more mundane kitchen. It wasn't gourmet cuisine, but I didn't think I'd starve while I was stranded here.

But then Al was moving towards the tub, and I felt adrenaline pour into my body. I rose as much as I could without showing my chest, not that he hadn't seen enough last night, pointing an accusing but useless against a naked demon finger in his direction.

"You are not coming in here, get out!" I shouted with much more conviction than I felt. But then if he left, I'd get a view of his backside. I felt myself blushing even as my eyes drifted off his imposing figure to glance at the mirror, showing me a perfect view of Al's tight ass.

Al grinned at my straying gaze and lowered himself into the tub before I could offer further protests. The water sloshed high on my chest, and I sat back down, hoping the bubbles would hold. It pissed me off to think he'd probably seen it all when he'd changed me into a nightgown and too much again last night, but still I wasn't in the mood to give him any better a look, which he'd certainly have if I stormed out of here.

"Stay on your side or you'll walk funny all week," I growled at him, pleased it actually did sound threatening. It's hard to threaten someone when you're blushing from staring at his junk.

An odd look crossed Al's face, some mix of frustration and concern, or so I thought. I didn't have my Ph.D in reading demon facial expressions, yet. "I won't touch you unless you say I can," he said firmly, holding my eyes until I was forced to look away. When I had myself more suitably under control, I glanced back to see him reclining back in the tub, his eyes fluttering shut as he sighed in pleasure.

"I told you not to plenty last night, and you kept at it!" I yelled, not caring how red my face was anymore or if the wetness spilled over the rim of my eyes. So much for control.. "What the hell is your problem?" I continued then jerked back when he moved. But he was only reaching for the bar of soap that had appeared on the edge of the tub when he had moved for it.

"Last night was complicated," Al said, and I forced my gaze away from him as his large hands ran the soap over his chest, building up a thick lather. I could smell the soap from my end of the tub, spicy like cloves but with something else not as sharp but brisker somehow. I breathed in deep, thinking about Al's words but also fascinated by his soap. Did he buy it from a demon soap-maker or make it himself? Order it from reality and pick it up? Did UPS make ever after runs? Mint, it was definitely mint, and for some reason, it did work with the cloves.

"It will keep you safer from Newt," he finally added, and I jerked my eyes back to his.

And apples, I thought, glad I'd finally processed the scent. Damn, if I could smell such individual things now, did that mean I was totally numbed to that pervasive burnt amber stink? I was afraid it did. I wondered if I would smell like it when I came home, and would Ivy and Jenks be too nice to say anything if the smell never quite washed off? Well, maybe not Jenks.

"How?" I asked, not really keeping the disbelief from my voice. I've known he was plenty easy on the eyes since I could look at him without unabated terror. And yeah, so now he smelled good too, but I wasn't going to let that influence me. At least that is what I kept telling myself.

Al's red eyes opened a crack, his face and posture relaxed, his gaze anything but. I waited, and felt chilled for a moment though the water was just a hot as when I'd first gotten in. Neat trick, but it seemed to me demon magic ought to have more such benefits since it was perpetually getting me in trouble. Well okay, maybe it was sometimes just my fault.

Despite the goosebumps, I was about to yell at him to spit it out. But he must have sensed my impatience, or maybe he was just playing with me. If I had to bet, I'd put my money on the latter.

"It's not final yet, but I'll win. Newt was observed using illegitimate aggression to disrupt a mating." He trailed his hands through the bubbles, as if what he was saying was of little importance. But I could still the weight of his gaze, and knew it was in his words as well, no matter how well he hid it. "Not the worst of crimes, but these last five hundred years have escalated it," Al said with a forced chuckle.

"So what happens when—if she loses?" I asked, actually feeling relieved for a moment. Was it worth it if it got Newt off my case? Or would she be even more pissed, and try even worse ways to take me? I had no idea.

"Then the queen bitch pays a hefty fine, to me," Al said with a devilish grin, and I had to stop myself from lunging across the tub and making use of his unclothed state to kick his 'nads somewhere up closer between his ears. Would serve him right. Bastard.

"You did all that for money?" I said, my voice feeling suddenly too hoarse to yell. I knew I shouldn't be surprised, but I was, and that made it even worse, somehow.

"Rachel, your room wasn't free, and as I've said before, you're high maintenance. I have to make a living, and not only for myself now," Al said softly, but I was still livid. I would not let him make me feel guilty. It wasn't like I could help make rent anyway, and he was an ass for bringing it up.

"And Newt cannot simply take you if you're more than my student," Al said matter-of-factly, but my jaw dropped.

"What?" I sputtered, and managed to splash around enough to get bubble all over the place. Al cursed as he wiped the soap from his eyes, and I hope it stung like a son of a bitch. I looked at him, his eyes even redder than usual as he tried to stare back at me without blinking in irritation. "But we aren't!" I yelled, reminding myself once again that storming out simply wasn't an option. Damn it, I needed him to teach me how he makes clothes so damn easily.

"But Rachel, think very hard, my itchy witch. The courts don't know that, and after what was seen in the garden, well, it doesn't hurt for them to assume we've already…"

But I cut him off right there, flinging a hand out as if it could stop his words, but he almost flinched back, more likely in fear of my soap in his eyes than me. "Never going to happen!" I repeated for the-I-don't-know-how-many-times!

"Why not, itchy witch?" Al asked, and his eyes were on mine, serious as death. Double damn.

And suddenly I could quite easily forget about his perfectly beautiful naked body so damn close and only separated from me by water. He was totally serious, as if he didn't get it, and that was a whole new kind of scary for me. "Do you want the long list or the short?" I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

Al just sat there, watching me, and waiting. I fiddled with my soap, stalling. It didn't smell as nice to me as Al's did. "You're a manipulative son of a bitch," I said softly, as if I were saying something else entirely. But I needed to say it; hell, I needed to hear it just as much as he did. This was all just getting out of hand, so damn quickly too.

"You're a frickin' familiar slaver. You're mean, petty, spiteful," I said, ignoring his slight growl at this tirade. When you kissed me last night, I was afraid the top of my head was going to come off. But I couldn't say that, of course.

"I have to constantly enforce our agreements with threats. I can trust you with some stuff, but not anywhere near enough to actually relax around you," I said truthfully, watching my hands mound up the bubbles absently instead of daring to watch his face anymore. Damn it, why was this so hard?

"I just don't understand you," I said, taking a breath for the really hard part. "You scared me last night," I finally forced out. But I didn't look up, I didn't want to see his reaction. Damn it, this was supposed to be a relaxing bubble bath.

"Rachel," Al whispered, and I jerked back from the hand he was extending toward my face.

"You said you wouldn't touch me," I hissed accusingly, and his hand dropped. His jaw clenched, his face tight with anger or frustration or both.

And suddenly he was moving, standing up and stepping outside the tub. I gasped a bit, both from the visual he was so thoughtfully providing and concern over the ripple of water that threatened to disturb my protective layer of bubbles.

But it was now or never. I couldn't stand this conversation anymore. It was time to get out. When he turned to grab the towel that had appeared for him, probably intentionally giving me an unadulterated view of his perfect butt, I bolted out of the water and lunged for the ugly face sigil. And like that, bam, I was back in my room, fast as an embarrassed bare-ass witch. I threw on some clothes, not really thinking about what I was wearing. I had much more serious things to consider. Like what the hell was I going to do about Al…and why the hell was my inbox full?

* * *

I searched high and low and have finally found some more plot. yay

And you all can thank VinylVictory for the fact that Al got nekkid too. Wasn't my original idea, but soooo much better this way!

By the way, for anyone curious, Al's soap is real and delicious. It's made by Lush and it's called "Demon in the Dark". Really, it's not just the name, when I sniffed it in the store, I could totally see Al using it. And it's green =) I'm so getting some next time I'm there.


	9. Bargaining

Chapter-way-too-many-damn-I-miss-one-shots-but-I-want-a-fic-with-100-reviews-wOOT!

I'm not dead, not even retired, but real life is beating me down, so that's why the long interruption. Vinyl's new chapter was like a smack in the ass to get going again.

* * *

Oh my god.

Curiosity made me do it. The first one I opened was harmless enough. There was a promise of cake, which made me grind my teeth. How the hell were these people not all diabetic? But then, there was probably a spell to prevent it. I had no idea who the hell Ctiulappe-attizai was, but apparently he wanted to get to know me better. I knew demons were crazy, but the names attached to the…emails? just strongly reaffirmed this fact. Some even made Al's summoning name look normal.

Other messages were plainly gross and I deleted them after a few glances…just to make sure there wasn't anything important in there...yeah. So what, I'm a bad liar.

Most were somewhere in between, though if I read one more speculation about my favorite type of cake, my relationship with Al, or if the carpet matched the drapes, I was going to hurt someone. Or smash my room interface. Which I didn't do—barely, cause I had some concerns about getting out of my room if I did in fact go all Office Space on that damn thing.

I ran a brush painfully through my wet, curly, and now ridiculously knotted hair. Damn it, I was very much pissed at Al. But I needed to talk to him. If for nothing else than to figure out how to block everyone else's access to my inbox. I'd had enough pervy demon love letters to last this century and then some, thank you.

My stomach's insistent comments reminded me I need some breakfast, and after tugging the brush through my hair one more time, I used the glyph to jump into Al's non-spelling kitchen. It should be good neutral ground if I ran into Al. But for all I knew, he'd jumped back in the tub when I'd vacated it. I paused, remembering I'd left my toiletries kit in his bathroom. Damn it, he better not look through my stuff. Knowing Al, he probably was. I tried to think if I had anything more awkward than a razor and deodorant in my bag, couldn't think of anything, and so proceeded to pick through Al's kitchen in pursuit of edibles. And it was as quite a task. I'd found smoked eel and what I swear were pickled pigs feet in here last time, and so I was duly cautious.

Crackers were my first find, and I munched on these as I continued digging through Al's plentiful cabinets. They were all quite a mess too, since apparently the demon used up his anal retentive powers in his lab. But then, I kind of preferred the mess. Al was so uptight about his workroom, I'd been swatted more than once for putting something back in the wrong place. In his mundane kitchen, he didn't apparently give a fairy fart, or at least hadn't bitched at me about making a mess.

Al was very suddenly ejected from the forefront of my mind. I pulled my find out from the dark confines of the cabinet, checking for an expiration date before I got excited. According to the packaging it was still good, so I did a little victory dance. Trail mix with carob, pecans, and dried cherries was way better than what I'd expected. There was damn near a pound of the stuff, and I was tempted to stash it in my room, not sure if I could find it again in the cabinets of if Al would eat it all to spite me. I had splashed soap in his eyes after all.

I practically shoveled the granola mix into my face, and even with the slight acrid tang of burnt amber, it was damn delicious.

An overly dramatic sigh made me turn, my mouth full and practically bulging with half-chewed trail mix. Al was there, not naked anymore, but in his bathrobe, leaning casually against one of the counters and eyeing me. Some clothing was definitely an improvement, but I knew he could just materialize his usual green frock. The bathrobe, all black and silky with almost-feminine ruffles at the open neck, was probably more for me than him.

"See what I mean, itchy witch? Eating all my expensive GORP like circus peanuts. You are high maintenance," Al said chidingly, and I couldn't honestly tell how much of it was his teasing and how much might actually be anger.

"Iss naw gwaaaaap," I tried around my mouthful of plunder, swallowed at Al's raised eyebrow, and tried again. "It's not GORP, no peanuts, no raisins. It's…" I thought about it, staring at the bag in my hands instead of trying to hold Al's evaluating gaze. "GOCAPACSEF," I mumbled, making sure I got them all: granola, oatmeal, cherries, almonds, pecans, apples, carob…yep, all there. Though GORP sounded more normal, mine almost sounded like a damn demon name.

I dropped the bag on the counter, remembering again why I was willing to deal with this level of awkwardness with Al, because speaking of strange demon names…

"I need to know how to block other users from messaging my room interface," I said suddenly, and Al shifted against the counter, as if thinking of moving towards me, then deciding otherwise.

"Why?" he said flatly, and I looked up at him then, curious at his tone and the bland expression I couldn't read on his face. Was he hiding a roiling jealousy that other demons were leaving me dirty emails? He could even be upset; maybe he thought I'd answered some of the messages? But no, the skin around his eyes was too relaxed, too neutral, and he always seemed to love a good reason to yell at me. So what the hell was it then? I caught myself turning my head to the side as I studied him. He offered a thin smile, and I shook myself, trying to remember this was about STOPPING demon advances, not trying to figure out Al's MO.

"Because I'm sick of weird emails filling up my inbox. I don't want to talk to a bunch of pervy demons who think I put out for cake because of your little act in Dali's garden!" I shouted the last bit for good measure.

"About that, Rachel. Court date is on the thirty-seventh," Al said with a smirk.

"I didn't say I'd do it," I grumbled while I wondered what the hell was up with the demonic calendar. The thirty-seventh of what?

"If you want help with your room interface, I need your help in return…" Al lifted his hands in a gesture that was probably supposed to look helpless. But I stared at his bare hands, remembered them on my bare skin, stroking, teasing, gentling me to him, and shook my head sharply.

"Well then, I'll leave you to your many suitors," Al said as he turned to go.

Suitors? What the hell…

"Al…" I said, the warning clear in my voice, but the bastard kept going. He blew a kiss and disappeared on the sigil face. My hands knotted in to fists and before really thinking about it, I raced to follow him. I could feel his trail on the sigil still: he was in the library. I jumped after him, glad it was just the library, not sure what I would do if he had retreated into his bedroom.

"Al!" I came into the library yelling, striding across the room towards his reclining form on the couch and hoping I looked at least half as pissed as I felt.

Al, still in his damned bathrobe, looked up from his book, not even a pretense of surprise in his red goat-slitted eyes as he tracked my progress to him. I didn't let the sudden fear his gaze could hold slow me though and marched right up to him, my knees brushing his.

For a moment, I lost my words. He was there, waiting to hear me yell at him, and I was sufficiently angry to do so. But I felt tired of it all before we even started. I'd been here over a week now, and all we'd done beside a few bastardized lessons was fight and bitch at each other with a few more awkwardly tender moments of "making-up" in between. I was tried and I was sick of the ever after and I was sick of Al and I missed my home and my friends.

My expression must have given me away. Al looked up at me, resting his book against his leg to reach a hand up and grasp my own. "Rachel?" he asked, not hiding the concern in his voice now. His hand was warm and heavy in mine, but it didn't evoke the kind of reaction his skin against mine usually did. Even the shift of energies felt like an empty gesture.

"It's nothing, it doesn't matter," I said, and turned to go. I didn't even want to reclaim my bag of super GORP, I just wanted to crawl back into bed and cry. And then when I was done with that, maybe figure out a way to contact Jenks and Ivy. Damn, I needed to hear their voices.

His arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back to him, hard. I overbalanced when he pulled again insistently, and I fell back onto him. I cursed and kicked and tried to get off him, but his bare hands came up and either side of my face, practically trapping me, and held my gaze inches from his own. One of my hands was on his chest to steady myself, but the damn bathrobe had bunched, and I was touching his perfect skin, feeling the hard muscle and the soft rise and fall of his breath.

"So much anger, just gone, and so suddenly, so cold," Al said softly, his breath mingling with my own. He stroked one side of my face slowly with his thumb.

"I don't have anything to say to you," I tried for indifference, but I sounded hurt, damn it.

"We are past words, but there are still many things we still have yet to share with one another," Al said softly, his thumb still stroking, his hands still holding me close to him.

I only meant to blink, but I kept my eyes closed for a moment, reshuffling my thoughts and trying again for anything resembling clarity. Al's lips brushed my neck, and I shuddered, opening my eyes to watch him work his way back up, leaving a gliding trail of warmth up my neck and cheek until our lips met. His lips were gentle on mine, tender, and that just made me remember all the more how much more heat and force his kisses could deliver.

Al pulled away a moment, his words as soft as his kisses, "Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to pretend, if you'd let me show you more of what being a mate entails?" His lips returned to mine, pressing lightly, soft punctuation to his question.

Damn it. I shuddered again in his arms, and one of his hands moved to smooth my hair. I tried to move, testing his hold, but he didn't give, so I lowered myself completely to rest on top of him. I buried my face in his chest, breathing him in and just grateful I didn't have to look in his eyes for the moment. He hummed in pleasure, one hand still stroking through my hair as if it weren't a rat nest of tangled curls, the other rubbing my back like he was comforting a child and not the woman he'd just been propositioning a moment earlier.

"I'd have to think about it," I said against his chest, and both of were surprised by my sudden words. Al made no move to stop me, and I clumsily got off him. I got to the glyph without a backwards glance and jumped to my room. Gasping when I arrived, grateful for air that didn't smell like his indomitable musk. I collapsed on the bed and wondered why the hell I even bothered to leave it in the first place.

* * *

Sorry about the teasing…but not really. You know you love it.

Thanks again for updating, VinylVictory. Your fic, No Rest For The Wicked, is turning out to be my favorite Ral fic ever, and your perseverance inspires some semblance of it in me.


	10. Catching

I was tired when I got home from court, but who wouldn't be? And it sure as hell wasn't as cut-and-dry as traffic court or the few times I'd been part of a criminal trial with the I.S. Oh no, demon court was a whole other world of pain in the ass paper-pushing crap fest. I thought I'd known they were all bureaucratic slime, but even that was letting them off easy. Even though Al had made me damn near memorize a script in exchange for fixing my room interface, I still had to check my backside in the mirror to make sure the grill marks weren't actually visible.

And I had a monster headache. Probably had something to do with over three hours of trying to follow the proceedings in Latin and only really getting one out of five words, rarely the verbs at that. And the court's mock uproar at having to question me in English. Or maybe Al's never-ending barrage of so-called coaching. God, my face still felt red. It hadn't been as bad as I'd imagined, but they'd asked enough stuff about mine and Al's "relationship" to make me want to crawl under my bed and never come out again. There had been some perks to it though; seeing Newt spitting-mad and unable to do anything about it in court was swell, but having her that pissed at me wasn't so hot.

I was glad he was out for a bit. Apparently getting reservations to some haughty new demon restaurant to celebrate winning damages from Newt, but I was grateful for some quiet time now. While Al was characteristically overbearing, these last few days had been…certainly there was a better word for it than busy? How about mind-numbingly awkward and crotch-teasingly wicked? Al hadn't given up easily, well, actually, he probably still hadn't given up, but I'd at least found some resolve to keep him at arm's length.

I was in the kitchen fiddling with the tea kettle since I'd finally, but unwillingly, been converted into a tea drinker. It wasn't that I liked the stuff, but it was exponentially less foul than the coffee the ever after had to offer. I had the water boiling with a thought, though the practice with that practical ley line charm still wasn't enough benefit to go without coffee. Al had a wide variety of teas as expected from somebody with an unnatural obsession with British culture, and I was poking around the cabinet, sniffing and inspecting them, trying to find one that didn't make my nose wrinkle up.

I froze, the memory of the scent making me feel rested, safe, then horribly, achingly, indomitably lonely. It was gone as quickly as it had been there and an orange peel and cinnamon brew was forcing itself up my nose instead. I stuffed my whole frizzy red head into the cabinet, trying to rediscover that familiar and haunting scent. There was citrus aplenty, cinnamon and cloves and nutmeg enough to make a dozen Grandma-approved pies, peppermint potent enough to slice through the humdrum flavors, and the sweeter persimmon tea that I was almost growing fond of. Where the hell had that smell come from? It was on the tip of my tongue, sweet in scent but musky in taste, and diffusing, lingering, and generally permeating my senses in a wash of half-formed and forgotten memories.

My hand snaked out and snatched up the little silk bag damn near invisible in the corner of the cabinet. I had it nearly jammed up my nose, breathing in the thick smell of incense and ash. This was what I'd wanted, and breathing it in again made me painfully remember why. This damn tea brew smelled like Ivy, a scent which was forever going to smell like home to me.

I dashed away the tears and brewed my tea, trying to keep from getting weepier. It would just be my luck for Al to show up now and pester me all night about my tears. When it was done, Al's entire kitchen smelled like vampire incense. I sat back, closing my eyes and drinking my Ivy tea and feeling even worse than when I had started. But that seemed to be the theme of my tutelage in the ever after: as much as it sucked, things could always get worse. And the tea was surprisingly bitter.

The tinniest bit of a smile had to creep out. It was going to be fun to have Al come home and smell Ivy all over his kitchen. He'd figure it out quick enough, but it was good payback for a demon since they're usually the ones spreading their smell all over god's green earth. Ivy and Jenks knew when the house smelled of burnt amber Al had been there. It was a worrisome smell too entirely apart from the ickiness of it. When he'd still been trying to snatch me, that smell had spelled trouble.

I sat up straighter, my mind buzzing more than the caffeine from the tea should merit. Then I had to grin like an idiot at my admittedly-careless but oh-so-genius plan.

I drank the rest of my Ivy tea in two gulps. The warmth of it spread through me, egging me on further. It was so simple, so funny, and would make me feel immensely better. Ivy and Jenks had to live in fear of Al snatching me, well, this would be some entirely deserved payback. He'd come home, ready to drag me out to dinner, and the kitchen would stink like Ivy had popped in and dragged me back across the lines herself. How utterly ironic a situation for a demon to have to deal with!

I had only a moment's indecision; after all, I had promised not to try this again. But I had done it before, right? And with the thought of Al to guide me, I had gotten there. With Ivy so fresh in my mind and drifting about my senses like a particularly potent ghost, what could go wrong?

And so like the adrenaline-junkie, fluff-headed adolescent proto-demon that I am, I jumped the lines with thoughts of Ivy and home thick and tangible in my mind.

It took a moment for anything to happen. I seriously thought Al had some sort of curse in place to directly interfere if I tried to jump, like hiding the keys from the teen who's failed their driver's ed classes. But no, there was a delay, but I was there, in the lines, my ears almost bursting from the discordant toiling that filled the lines and reverberated through me. And then it hurt, hurt like nothing I'd ever felt before and then some. I tried to gasp, but I had no lungs to suck in the air. And I had no air to choke my whimpers on. It burned even though I had no body, and I tried to keep my thoughts clear and strong on Ivy, using her like a beacon to try and continue through the dark of the pain. But it was too much, I couldn't concentrate, couldn't continue fighting off the panic. I felt like I was splintering, shredding with the heat and pressure of the line burning through me.

I thought then I was going to die for my stupidity. I thought it was finally going to happen and I was damn close to accepting it if that would make the pain end. Then there was dirt under my nails and air imploding into my lungs.

I choked and cringed. It was daytime, I'd forgotten about that. And after weeks without it, the sun, even though it was an evening sun, was too damn bright, almost burning, but nothing like the burning of the line. When I had air enough, I cried, not caring if I was curled up in the dirt in broad daylight. Even without the pain, I knew I'd screwed up. The line was supposed to take me to Ivy, and also not try to burn me into ash and cinder. I tried to look up, but it was so damn bright out here. It hurt to move, it even hurt to think too hard about moving. I didn't mind my face in the dirt; at least the ground was cooler.

Someone was cursing above me. Cursing quite creatively. I tried to pry my eyes open, half-expecting to see pixie dust sifting through the air. But it was dark, so dark I couldn't see. And I really was too tired to try to open my eyes. The voice was drifting in and out, and I wondered where it was going all this time. But then I felt myself moving and realized it was me doing the drifting. This didn't bother me as much as it should.

I drifted in and out and finally came back to consciousness's shore in a blessedly dark room though my skin still felt seared. The heavy blanket over me smelled undeniably of burnt amber, and I tried to shift under it while limiting what else my raw skin touched, trying to get a better idea of where I was and what the hell had happened.

"Rest, itchy-witch. You'd think attempting to addle your brains once would be enough for you, hmm?" Al teased in his infuriatingly-precise and way-too-damn-sexy British accent. I groaned when his warm hand rested against my forehead and tried to pull away.

"The fever will go down, just go back to sleep," Al whispered near my ear. It sounded like a good idea. A fever was a reasonable explanation; it was certainly a better option than being red and blistered from the sun. It also meant I wasn't really a demon, right? The sun just burned because I'd already been hurt in the lines, right? It would also explain why my mind was racing like a pixie on a honey and taffy bender.

I mumbled something that seemed incomprehensible even to me, but a delicate little cup with blue flowers around the lip appeared in his hands. Al braced one arm behind my back to bring me somewhat closer to being upright and the other carefully brought the tea cup to my lips. Of course it was tea. Even after it had been boiled, water was just beyond foul without something to flavor it. But I still wasn't pleased with tea in general right now. It was ginger and lemon too and stronger than I'd make, and I hated it, but I still drank it, my throat and mouth feeling as hot as my skin.

"Better now?" Al asked, wiping at the drops of tea I'd carelessly let dribble from my parched mouth.

I still felt like shit. Why? Because I'd try to jump the lines on my own—again! I tried staring at the only slightly spinning ceiling and figuring out why the hell it had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Maybe Newt's insanity was catching. Or maybe I was just an idiot. The latter seemed more accurate since I didn't even try to pull away when I felt the bed shift and the covers lift to admit another. I even leaned back into him, sighing as he closed the little space left between us, letting him cradle me even though I should damn well know better by now.

"It'll all be better in the morning," Al whispered into my ear, and I wanted to believe it, even if he didn't sound so convinced about it himself.

* * *

Sorry, I know cheated with the narrative format so I wouldn't ACTUALLY have to write the court proceedings…so shoot me, I'm lazy =P I'm trying to finish this thing before I start school again…Wish me luck…preferably in the form of reviews =)


	11. Amelioration

Chapter 11-Amelioration

Oooo see how long and pretty it is? And it's almost all Al/Rachel interaction. I'm making-up for all my misbehaving and slow updates =D

* * *

Such utter lies. All better in the morning my ass! Only Al's strong arms around me kept me from spilling out of the bed, but I still tossed and turned all night, balancing on the fine edge of sleep and feverish hallucination. Al's grumble-laden nursing tugged me from a fever dream filled with visions of my sun-filled kitchen, the rich incense of living vampire, and oddly enough, a plethora of images of blue lilies emitting the sweet and sharp smell of apples and minty cloves.

But it was just Al leaning over me, his red goat-slitted eyes studying my face, his full lips pressed together. I could smell him all around me, the ghost flickers of burnt amber that my nose mostly no longer recognized, and his own musky maleness that seemed stronger since he'd been cuddled up alongside me all night. I wasn't about to bitch at him about it. He'd pulled this stunt before, and when I'd gotten chilled last night, his body warmth and soft murmurs had coaxed me back to some semblance of sleep.

Warm hands pulled at the bed covers, and I squirmed in protest, trying to yank them back up over my face. Al's hand smacked one of mine, and it stung enough to make me try to sit up and glare at him. Both hands seized me, and I tried to kick out at him, thinking at first he was trying to strangle me. But no, his hands were firm but gentle and felt like molten flesh against the sides of my neck. Another wave of scent cascaded down over me as he muttered to himself, and this time I could clearly discern the sharpness of mint and cloves paired with sweetness of apple. Al pulled away suddenly, letting me pull the covers back up, and I was almost disappointed, but at least it was warmer under here.

"I'm going to steal your soap," I threatened when Al forced another noxious mystery brew to my lips.

"I'll lather you up good, Rachel, just drink you damn medicine," Al growled back at me.

I tried to, really, but it was obscenely bitter. I choked and sputtered, and Al seized my face, tilting my head back with one hand and clamping another firmly around my mouth. I swallowed convulsively, the taste bringing tears to my eyes, and Al released me.

"What the hell?" I protested, trying to sound pissed but really just sounding tired and weaker than I cared to admit.

"It'll bring down the fever," he muttered, and I struggled to turn on my side and bury myself in the sweat-soaked pillow. I didn't want to see his pinched face, the blatant concern when his features were usually so schooled and closed.

"Was it the Ivy tea?" I whispered, trying to forget about burning in the line, then burning out in the sun, and the worst of it, being unable to get home.

Al's laugh was short and forced and made goosebumps rise on my skin. I rubbed at them ineffectively, but stopped damned quick since the skin still felt raw and sunburned.

"No, it wasn't the kyphi, you dumb itchy-witch. Though you did drink my entire stash of it," Al growled with mock anger, but even that was better than the concern. I was already afraid, I didn't want to think of it, didn't want to know what was really wrong since I had terrible suspicions. I could still see the unforgiving halo of sun under my eyelids.

But even half-delirious, I had to know, no matter how scared I was. "What happened then?" I asked, hating the whining tremble in my voice.

"You acted like a little moron, that's what happened. You jumped the lines. Without proper training. Again." The rumble in his voice wasn't performance this time, and his red eyes burned into me. I slipped further under the covers till only my eyes peeked out.

"I didn't mean to," I mumbled into the fabric of the blanket, only now realizing it was darker and plusher than what I had on my bed.

Al's quiet snarl echoed menacingly through the room and made me slip all the way under the covers. I didn't have the energy to deal with him, and with this fever pounding through my head, things shifted from unreality to a sharpness that seemed more drug-induced than natural. A genuinely angry Al seemed just too monstrous to deal with right now.

I felt more than heard him stalk across the room. His shadow seemed to put physical pressure atop my barrier blanket.

"It was an accident!" I cried out, then cringing at the sound of my own voice. What the hell was wrong with me? Sure Al was pissed, but he wouldn't really hurt me, especially if I was really sick, right? Despite any of my reasoning, I felt dizzy with fear and wondered how pissed he'd really be if I puked all over his bed.

Oh, crap. It finally processed in my sun-stroked probably tea-poisoned brain. Al hadn't ambushed me in my bed again. He'd put me to sleep in his bedroom. Which would explain why the sheets were red silk and the walls were green with black crown molding. I tried to think of something scathing to say about his predictable and clashing colors, but my brain was mush and I think I just laughed awkwardly under the covers instead.

"There's nothing funny about addling your already questionably functional witchy brains, Rachel," Al said from right next to me, and I squeaked like a girly girl and tumbled over the side of the bed.

"Really Rachel, as if my point needed even more proof," Al grumbled but his arms were gentle around me as he plucked me from the thick, black carpeting and tucked me back into bed with efficient care. I shuddered when his bare hands rested on my forehead again then slid slowly down my arms. I couldn't decide if he was warm or cool and which one felt better right now. So I just snuggled back down into my nest of blankets and blinked up at Al owlishly. He wasn't mad if he tucked me in, right?

Al stared back at me, his face blank and unreadable once again. Even feverish and delusional and sore on every inch of my skin it was awkward, but I couldn't think of anything to say to dispel it.

Thankfully, Al broke the staring contest. Which I guess means I won? Go team Rachel!

"Let's do something about that skin now, hmm?" Al asked in a light tone that immediately set me on edge.

"What's wrong with my skin?" I asked, pulling an arm out from under the covers for a closer look. The lighting in the room was odd though, I couldn't even discern where it was coming from, and in the feeble light I couldn't tell if I looked like I'd fallen asleep at the beach.

But Al had already jumped from the bedroom, probably to the spelling kitchen. I thought for a moment of forcing myself out of his bed and staggering off to my own, but even raising myself on my elbows was too much effort. I collapsed back down to wait for Al and wrinkled my nose at the puff of burnt amber rising from the sheets. As long as it wasn't terrible to twist, I'd take a curse to make my skin not feel so damn tender. Feeling back to normal would be worth a little smut.

Al was back in a flash, or more like a noisy displacement of air that made my ears twitch. "You're sun burnt to all hell, itchy witch," Al answered as if he hadn't just disappeared on me. I grumbled under the blankets but poked my head out enough to watch Al. He had a bottle in his hand, and I felt my stomach twist just at the thought of another nasty mouthful of medicine.

"A little more light then," Al murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed closest to me. I blinked like a deer caught in the headlights at the sudden blaze, then retreated back under the covers.

"Turn it back down!" I yelled, but Al ignored me and started trying to pull my blankets away from me.

"Keep your eyes closed, it'll take a few moments to acclimate back into the normal spectrum," Al said, pinning me down with one hand as the other successfully snatched away my hoard of blankets. I didn't know what the hell he meant, but I had my eyes clamped shut anyway.

Al was humming and I heard him squeezing the bottle he'd retrieved and the wet sounds of its contents emptying into his hands. I squirmed more out of habit than to be a pain; if it would really help soothe my tortured skin, I was willing to try it.

I gasped at the cold, slippery substance in Al's hands, and shivered when he started smearing it all over my upper arms.

"What is that?" I asked, biting down a moan. It felt so damn good on my skin I was willing to forget it was Al touching me. Al who I was still furious with, Al who had played me like a fiddle then still thought he could lead me on further. I tried to crack my eyes open again to watch him, but it was still too damn bright.

"Mostly aloe, but with a few more helpful ingredients added to it. I told you, you're burnt to a crisp," Al said, his voice preoccupied as he rubbed the gelid goop into my shoulders, neck, and even on my cheeks, forehead, , my earlobes, and the bridge of my nose. I snorted in irritation when he finished with my face and tapped the tip of my nose like he was disciplining a naughty kitten.

"It's a mystery what goes on in that itchy witch head of yours, Rachel. You could have died," he said softly, finishing up with my hands and elbows and pulling up the long, silky nightgown to start rubbing the aloe into my feet and ankles. It was better than a massage, and my burning skin went cool and relaxed under his touch. It felt good enough that I was only momentarily annoyed that he had changed my clothes while I was unconscious, again.

"I just wanted to get home," I said, and it sounded weak even to my ears.

"This is your home," Al said without any emotion as if it wasn't a conversation worth having or one that had been replayed to death.

"You know it isn't," I grumbled, and he didn't bother to reply, just continued working the aloe into my legs, stroking behind my knees with wet feather touches that made me sigh.

I gasped and jerked my eyes open, regretting it instantly when the light pierced my eyes like a spear. I kicked my legs away from him, pulling the hem he'd been trying to lift up even higher out of his grasp.

"Stop being a child, Rachel. It's the only thing that's going to get that burn out of your hide," Al said irritably, trying to snag me again but I rolled to the other side of the bed.

"I was wearing clothes, Al!" I said, pulling out of his hands again with a grunt of pain and effort. "I can't be sun burnt where I was covered, you ass!" I tried to kick him for good measure but failed miserably.

But Al stopped trying to grab me and that made me calm down enough to look up at him and the tightness around his eyes.

"It's not the actual light that's the problem, itchy witch," Al said slowly and with a deathly seriousness that made me pay attention.

"There's something more to the sunlight, let's call it an allergen for simplicity's sake. You were exposed for a prolonged period of time. Another demon would be dead, but you're just sun poisoned…"

"I'm not a demon," I said with more force than I really felt. The sun had never hurt me before, why was I screwed up now? My eyes were getting heavy with unshed tears, and I opened them cautiously to blink and try and keep holding them back.

Even though I was distracted, Al didn't make another grab for me; he just waited, staring patiently at the wall while I got myself under control. "And the sun? My skin? It's not…permanent?" My voice caught, but I forced all the words out, still blinking stupidly at the light but not as awfully blinded anymore.

"It's probably just a sensitivity due to your prolonged stay in ever after," Al said, and I knew he was being nice. He didn't know for certain. Maybe I'd never get home now. I pulled my legs up and buried my face. At least my legs and arms felt normal again. My back burned like a bitch when I hunched forward, but at least this way I didn't have to look at Al.

"And your skin will be fine once we get all those nasty free radicals neutralized." Al squeezed the aloe bottle again, smearing a generous amount of the medicinal smelling green goop in one hand.

"With aloe?" I said bitingly.

"Yes, Rachel. With aloe. Take it off or I'll do it for you," Al warned, stepping closer to the bed again and staring down at me. Waiting.

"I can do it myself," I stated, reaching out for the bottle, glaring back up at him.

"Don't think so, itchy witch. You can't miss a single spot or you'll sicken further from exposure. I won't have Newt snatching you from me now because you wrinkle up like a raisin." Al said evenly. I stared up at him like he'd grown a few more heads. He sat back down on the edge of the bed and patted the space near him as if really expecting me to come to him. His lips thinned when I made no move, and quicker than I could see, he grabbed me with his free hand. I scooted over before he could pull me; I didn't want to think how being pulled across the bed would feel on my blistering back.

Al hiked up the nightgown around my waist without further ado, and I leaned back onto the pillows, trying not to look at him while his hands ran over my thighs, rubbing in the soothing gel. Even if I was as red as a boiled lobster after passing out in the sun, I knew I was redder now. He had said a single spot couldn't be missed, and he'd meant it. He worked all the way up my legs without a comment, and I was afraid I was sweating when his warm hands tenderly massaged my inner thighs. He skirted certain areas while I was furiously contemplating what the hell I'd do if he made a move to remove my panties, instead massaging the aloe into my lower belly first, and reaching to get the backs of my thighs as well.

Before I had time to cringe about what he was going to massage the gel into next, one of his arms arm came down like an iron band on my legs, effectively keeping me from kicking him in his ugly demon face when his other hand pulled my panties off without hesitation.

"Al, you ass!" I yelled, squirming to get away as his cool fingers massaged my lips and slipped inside. He swirled his fingers around my opening, fingers barely penetrating before he moved on. My entire body jolted when he brushed my clit and I glared up at him, but he continued without comment, reaching up to cover my mound. His grip lessened, and I tried to sit up, to force him away from me, but he held on. I was ridiculously pissed but even more so mortified when he pulled my legs up to spread the soothing gel on my ass cheeks.

"There, hush. We're almost done," Al said placidly, pulling me up into sitting position. I grabbed one of the sheets and pulled it to me to cover myself, trying to keep the shaking in my chest from actually developing into noises. I struggled when Al's hand rested on the sheet, but he only moved it aside to bare my back to him. I caught my breath while he rubbed more aloe into my back, trying to ignore the comforting coolness his fingers spread into my aching skin so I could figure out how the fuck I was going to respond to this.

He hadn't taunted me, hadn't been rough or lingered over any part more than thoroughness required. But still, I knew he was enjoying it, because deep down if I admitted it, which I so didn't want to, I was enjoying his touch on my naked skin as well. His fingers working the aloe into my hips made my lips part, but I forced down the moan and was glad he couldn't see my face.

"Front now, Rachel. Then it's done and you can go back to sleep," Al said, his voice still carefully neutral.

"You're such a jerk," I muttered weakly, letting him turn me to him, and having to throw an arm out against his chest to keep from falling on him when I overbalanced on the bed. I pulled my hand back as if burned and glared at his nose, not daring to meet his eyes like this. Diplomatically, Al didn't respond, but took the front of the sheet from my clenched hands, letting it pool around my waist and exposing my naked chest to him.

His large hands started low, finishing covering my belly with the aloe mix and then running his hands up my ribcage. I gasped that time, couldn't help it, couldn't smother the sound in time, and Al's eyes darted to meet mine. He ran his fingers back up my ribs, rubbing the aloe in my skin, maybe pressing a bit harder than he needed, and carefully watching my face as he did it. I shivered, and a small smile graced Al's lips. His hands cupped my breasts, working the gel in underneath first, softly and smoothly gliding over my skin. I closed my eyes and told myself I wasn't going to do it, but when his thumbs slid over my nipples, my body reacted to his touch, tightening, hardening, and I moaned low and long at the caress.

Al's smile grew but he still didn't say anything, and I dropped my eyes, staring over his shoulder instead as he finished my front with feather-like brushes over my clavicles.

"There," he said simply. I didn't pull away, but he sat up. He wiped his hands on a white linen that had appeared in his grip before reaching back for me, letting his fingers linger over my unruly red curls. I didn't curse at him when he planted a cool kiss atop my head.

"Rest now, be pissy with me in the morning," Al said, the teasing finally returned to his voice. Before I could respond, he was gone, and I was alone in his bedroom feeling a strange mix of anger and calm, violation and undeniable arousal. But I wouldn't be doing anything about any of those feelings just yet. My head was still pounding, my thoughts fuzzy, confused, and still feverish. But the pain in my head was bearable now that my body didn't feel like a giant blister. I curled back up under the blankets, and I fell back asleep, still naked, in Al's bed.

* * *

I tried to blink the sleep from my eyes, wondering what the hell had woken my up. But then the yelling started again, and I knew what had pulled me from sleep.

I didn't have time to wonder how I could hear raised voices in other rooms if the rooms weren't connected by the customary assumptions about space. Al was suddenly back, standing with his hands on his hips and glaring at the older demon who unwisely poked him in the chest.

"I said I'm handling it! It's not a matter that requires the courts' interference!" Al fumed, and I hid further under the blankets, not knowing and not wanting to know why Dali was here and why Al was causing a scene. And certainly not wanting to advertise the fact that I was naked.

"Once is an accident, twice is lunacy. And if there's any basis for Newt's claims then you obviously aren't taking the necessary precautions," Dali huffed, his hand gesturing dramatically in my direction and even though I was scared stiff and confused as hell I had to bite back a grin at the clear demonstration of where Al had gotten his theatrics from.

"And I'm telling you Newt tampered with her, and I'm taking care of it now!" Al growled, his voice heavy as if it had actual substance to crush Dali's arguments.

"Tampered with her how? You've said yourself she's as teachable as a manic toddler and as tractable as a tiger."

"Hey!" I shouted, indignation thick in my voice, but they both ignored me, Al not even bothering to tell me to shut up.

"I don't know. Somehow in court or before or afterwards," Al grumbled, and that sounded weak even to me. I was just homesick, that's why I tried to jump the lines again, right?

"Prove it or shut up," Dali said, and Al's mouth opened and closed without another word. Dali eyed him, as if waiting for more, then rubbed at his temple in an unmistakably tired gesture. "If it happens again, she's to become a ward of the courts," Dali said. Al grimaced but didn't argue further, and Dali, with a blank look in my direction, disappeared into a line with just a shift of air pressure to show he'd gone.

"Well, you heard the man, Rachel. Stay out of the lines or your Newt's," Al said just as tonelessly as Dali had, and also disappeared before I could argue.

Alone again, my head ringing from interrupted sleep, confusion, and worry, I wondered not for the last time what the hell was going on and how the fuck was I supposed to get back to sleep now?

* * *

I know I might have tweaked canon a tad, but I seriously can't remember if we were ever given a solid reason about demons and the sun…and this way, I got Rachel naked in naughty nurse Al's arms…so yeah, works for me


	12. Up Against the Wall, Part 1

Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Remember, M for a reason…a really big reason where conceited demons are concerned.

* * *

_God I was panting like I'd run all morning then raced back to the car. Or like a whore. Guess which was more appropriate?_

_My lips parted again, mostly of their own volition, but my cry was muffled by the rough fingers caressing my lips. My tongue darted out, licking him, tasting his salty, musky flesh. He took me at my invitation, and inserted a finger, then another, into my mouth. I twirled my tongue around them as if they were something else entirely, sucking and nibbling harder when his teeth took a hold on the back of my neck. I arched sharply into him, loving the thick, full fill of him penetrating me as deeply as possible, his hard muscled body pressing against me as if to merge us in other ways, his skin practically burning against my flesh as if to brand me as he took me hard from behind._

_I managed to moan his name around his fingers, and his teeth tightened, threatening to break the skin, certainly bruising, and driving me all the more wild. I pushed back against him, my hips trying to thrust with him despite the force with which he had me pinned to the wall. His fingers retracted from my mouth, but before I could complain, they'd trailed down my body, his nails scratching to mark. With a little more gentleness, his fingers reached my throbbing sex, and still dripping from my mouth, vigorously rubbed my clit. My nails raked the wall hard enough to scratch through a few layers of paint._

_"Al, don't stop, don't stop!" I yelled, trying to toss my head, only to be rewarded by the bruising pressure of his teeth in the soft nape of my neck. He growled into my skin, which was response enough. I didn't want him to let go long enough to really answer. His thrusts, deep and thorough despite his speed, became faster, harder like his mouth on my fragile skin, bruising and wild. I screamed for him as he fucked me against the wall, my heart fluttering like a mad thing at the pace of his hips and the weight of his body restraining me, the only sounds my moans and the wet, violent tempo of our flesh as he drove his engorged cock deep into me._

"God's little green apples, Rachel, I'd give almost anything to know what you're dreaming about," an all-too-familiar voice purred in my ear.

I woke up violently, lashing out at the heavy blanket over me. Al's heavy presence near me didn't shift though, neither did his grasp on my waist. I tried to hit him, and he rolled me, pinning both arms above my head with only one hand. I huffed in frustration. Candy-coated fairy farts, he was quick, and I was immobile under him. My face felt hotter than when the sun had been toasting my skin. Al leered down from atop me, his weight heavy, promising on my hips. I saw his nostrils flare, and he held my eyes while he licked his thick lips suggestively. I didn't think it was possible to blush further without a dangerous drop in blood pressure.

"You smell divine, my itchy-witch," Al rasped, his voice like a physical thing, a forceful caress against my bare skin. God I was still naked, and Al was on top of me, most of the blanket trailing off the bed. And I'd been dreaming about it, him, us. And as a result, I was ridiculously turned on and damn near dripping wet. I think he knew; the smug look on his face and his flared nostrils suggested he did. I contemplated telling him I'd been dreaming of Ivy, or better yet, Trent. See how a little jealousy washed with him. But my lack of complaint at our current position was enough to goad him on, and he lowered himself for a kiss, and there was suddenly no longer any room for words in my mouth.

Al's full lips were sinfully soft, and the hand not pinning my own immobile made use of my prone and bare form. Even without his feather brushes and rougher grasps, it was madness-inducing in my already aroused state. The weight of him on me, the feel of his hard body separated by only his clothes, the musky male scent made softer with cinnamon and sharper with cloves, the textures of velvet and cloth stroking my bare skin created a sensational banquet. It was still dim in Al's bedroom, the silken sheets of his bed still smelling strongly of aloe and the pillows piled haphazardly cradling my nakedness as much as Al's heavy petting. I couldn't stop myself, didn't want to stop myself honestly, from responding to him. My heart spiked at the soft moan, more feel than sound, that escaped him when I responded to his kiss. I relaxed under him, writhed under his hand instead of away from it, and felt in response his own body loosen. His hand released mine, and I sent my fingers to play in his slightly curled hair. Hungrily, he deepened the kiss, probing my mouth with his warm tongue. Pulling away enough to allow me a breath, I ran a finger over his moistened lips, watched, fascinated, as his eyes bore down into mine, the redness of them no longer frightening in their strangeness, but enticing in the need broadcasted there. My hands cupped his face, and I pulled him back down to me, pushing my tongue past his lips to taste him back. Al shuddered on top of me, letting me explore the spicy and alien tastes of his mouth while his hands roamed to my breasts, cupping and caressing, then pinching and rolling the nipples when I offered no resistance to his growingly intimate touches.

Our lips broke apart, and Al sent his mouth to the curve of neck and shoulder, pressing moist kisses and maddening nibbles into the sensitive expanse of skin while his hands explored lower, tensing over the flat expanse of my stomach, clutching and kneading at my hips, teasing down my thighs.

"Al?" I asked, not sure what I was asking, but needing to hear that damn accent-laden voice of his.

"Rachel," Al breathed my name against my bare skin, his hand reaching between my legs to stroke my lips, gently exploring while my hips pressed invitingly against him.

"I wasn't thinking earlier. I'm sorry," I said, my mouth working on its own while my brain belatedly thought how lame that sounded.

Al made one of his strange humming sounds and planted a kiss at the corner of my mouth. "Not your fault, itchy witch. Newt's psycho creativity and utter lack of reason was all over it." His lips covered my own again, saving me the need to respond, using more pressure and sliding than actual deep probing, and I responded to the change, pressing back against him as his fingers instead took up the probing, sliding slowly into my soaked sex, light and long touches that made the pressure of our lips feel bruising in comparison.

I moaned as his fingers fucked me with deliberately slow and lingering thrusts, and taking some initiative of my own, made a grab for the front of his pants. Al's body tensed, then relaxed again as I felt his erection straining against the heavy cloth.

I rubbed and grasped him as much as I could with his pants in the way while he continued with uninhibited access to my most sensitive bits. I grabbed him maybe a bit too roughly when his thumb purposefully circled my clit, building the slow ache in my loins to something sharper, more desperate. But Al just growled into my hair and made no move to join me in my nakedness.

"Al," I whined in frustration, spreading wider for him and trying to pump my hips against his hand to disrupt and escalate his leisurely pace, but he obstinately kept me pinned under his weight and limited in my range of motion.

"All in good time, my itchy witch, though I do love hearing you beg for it," Al whispered in my ear, seizing my earlobe between his teeth before I could offer up a rebuttal. I gasped at the pinch of his teeth then the soothing stroke of his tongue down my neck. I was damn near ready to beg for it too, after all the off-and-on between us, the closeness and sudden distances, his teasing and testing punctuated by actual moments of caring and intimacy. I couldn't keep him off anymore, didn't want to, and wasn't so much ready to forgive as simply willing to forget all the crap he'd dragged me through. It didn't hurt that his bulge was ridiculously promising and bordering on intimidating, and I could feel the throbbing heat of him through his pants. As exciting as my dream had been, the idea of having him pounding that into me from behind was a little more adventurous than I felt up too for a first time with my demon. The tense flesh I felt so prominently through his pants trailed down the leg of his trousers a damn impressive distance. The slight shudder that lifted my skin was half adrenaline and half actual trepidation. I'd gotten a good look when he'd invaded my bath time retreat, and Al's equipment, even only half hard then, had been a far cry from what male witches normally had to work with. If I was right in my suspicions, I still had no real idea what demons looked like naturally. They got to choose their appearances, and as exciting as huge was, there was certainly such a thing as too huge. The ubiquitous demonic penchant for BDSM only added to my trepidation.

Before I could think of a half-diplomatic and half-sexy way of asking him just how large we were talking about here, Al moved his mouth down to my breasts, seizing a nipple between his teeth then sucking hard enough to send my head spinning. Another finger added to my burning core and a smidgen more speed from his busy hand promptly tore a frenzied cry from my lips.

"Just wait until I get the line into you next, Rachel," Al said, removing his lips just long enough to speak, his words rasping out hot and aching against my erect nipple. His teeth pinched down again, hard enough to make me cry out, but the movement of his fingers stroking inside me and the hints of pressure against my clit diluted the pain with a dizzyingly blur of pleasure.

"You'll scream for it," he promised darkly, and I could only pant and writhe in response. Suddenly he seized for my throat, not choking but pulling, lifting my face up and forcing my mouth to his. His thumb stroked the pulse in my neck as his mouth ate at mine, teeth and tongue and lips creating a myriad of conflicting and entwining sensations. The weight was more suddenly, not a physical thing but present, and my hormone-soused mind took a moment to realize it was the pressure of his aura grinding against mine. I felt the promise of it, the beginning tingle of the full load of line energy he was carrying and readying to spindle through me so full and fast I'd seize in a mix of unadulterated pleasure and burning overload.

He withdrew his punishing mouth, resting his lips against mine just enough so I could feel the soft arc of his smile. His fingers paused deep inside me, and I knew it was coming but couldn't tense, could react with anything but an anticipating shudder.

"Say it, Rachel," he whispered, his breath mingling in my mouth. I blinked dumbly, looking up at his smile, his body tense and waiting above me.

"What?" I managed to ask, trying to bring some momentary clarity to the muddle of horny goop that was currently my brain.

"Tell me what you want," Al said, the command only slightly softened by the brush of his fingers in my unruly curls.

I tried to growl at him, but it came out more like a throaty whimper. He smiled but the gentleness in my hair became a tug, a promise of more roughness.

"Al, I want it the way it should be," I said, my mouth moving without the guidance of a fully-functioning brain behind it. He kept his lips a breath away from mine, the warmth of him so close only emphasizing the touch he was holding back. His fingers did something subtle and circular inside me, and I moaned loud and long.

"Please, please," I panted, and his hand pulled my hair, pulling my lips another painful inch away from his. "Show me how," I cried out, only really realizing what I was saying when I felt his mouth finally descended on mine. The ley line energy came two-fold, from his mouth moving hungrily against mine and his fingers again thrusting inside me. It blurred and ran together into one giant need, a burning and overwhelming fire of sensation I'd only felt hints of before. Power pulls with witches were a pale comparison. Even the more intense line play I'd foolishly engaged in with Pierce hadn't prepared me for the true potential of demon magic in bed.

I screamed against him, but the feelings only intensified, making me mad with want even as I was filled with more line energy then I'd ever held before.

Suddenly his tenseness matched my own. The line energy uniting us more than flesh could fizzled out, and I realized my eyes had been clenched shut only when I opened them to take in his furious glare.

"What…" I tried to say, silenced by Al's rumbling and anything-but-playful growl echoing throughout the bedroom. A shudder rolled through his body, and the curses fell thick and foreign from his lips. His fingers withdrew from me, and I stared up, confused and more than a little hurt.

His glare softened minimally when he saw my hurt look. "It can't be helped, Rachel. I'm being summoned," he said glumly.

"What…no!" I shouted, grabbing at his arm as if I could prevent it. It couldn't be, my aching body refused to believe he could just leave. But Al easily pulled himself from my grip to stand beside the bed, jerking his jacket back into place and smoothing down his mussed hair irritably.

"I'll get back as soon as I can," Al said, his voice hard and his look still furious. As angry as I was about it, I didn't envy whoever was on the other ends of that summons. The suffering from my denied libido was nothing compared to what that dark look on my demon's face promised. Al was going to tear that unlucky summoner apart. And when he vanished from the bedroom, left alone with the ghost of his musky scent that only aroused me further but provided none of the satisfaction my aching sex demanded, I didn't really feel all too guilty about what was going to happen to that demon summoner.


	13. Up Against the Wall, Part 2

Up Against the Wall Part 2

Uh sorry if I screwed up Rachel's age; I guessed.

Sorry it's been forever, I'm not dead, I'm in grad school, so it just feels like I'm dead. I feel suitably horrible for making people wait for so long, so I hope this chapter lives up to expectations because I wrote this instead of doing homework =/

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I blinked dumbly at the empty bed, feeling cheated and pissed. I couldn't wait all day for him. Everything in his bedroom smelled like him, or sex, or aloe. There was no way my sanity would survive standing around waiting in there for an indeterminate span of time.

I jumped back to my room and locked anyone else out with my interface, though I wasn't sure if I was just feeling vulnerable or if I was truly pissed enough about his summoning that I wasn't going to let him in when he got back. If I was honest with myself, I knew it wasn't Al's fault. Hell, from the look of him he'd been just as frustrated as I by the horrendous timing. But he's made his name so damn available over the years and decades and centuries, of course he'd get summoned at inconvenient moments. And as he sometimes liked to remind me when attempting to bash down my so-called unrealistic morals, it was his job to snag unwary demon summoners. The growl that echoed in my room was impressive. Damn, why I couldn't I manage to sound so pissed when Al was actually around to witness it?

It was a toss-up between a cold shower that would clear my head or just the oblivion of sleep. I decided on the shower; it seemed there were too many surprises waiting for me whenever I woke-up in the ever after. And a cold, cold shower would be refreshing. I hoped whatever important crap was in the aloe was fast acting because I was going to be awhile in there, even if I could get the water down to an Antarctic level because that's how cold I was going to need it to convince my body to calm the hell down.

It was easier than I thought it would be to keep the water cold; apparently my skin still was burned enough that even lukewarm didn't feel appealing. Yet all of Al's caresses, most of which had been anything but gentle, had felt amazing, without a hint of soreness, well, not soreness that could be attributed to sunburn at least. I filed this information away in the growing category of "Crazy Shit I Still Didn't Know/Get About Demons" and tried to relax and enjoy my freezing shower. It was hard, even the cold water didn't feel good on my skin; even at the softest option the water still came down too hard and felt like sharp bits of ice pricking my skin. I gave up soon, feeling relatively clean but lacking the peace and centering often obtained from a good, long shower or bath.

I dressed in jeans and a plain tee faded to be more gray than black, feeling the need to dress plain and unsure whether I was pouting or genuinely pissed. I spent some time trying to get my hair tame, but promptly gave up since it was unmanageable when wet. With nothing much to do and an indeterminate span of time before me, I plucked up one of my school books, a relatively simple yet immensely boring volume on beginner ley line skills. I'd thought I at least had the basics down, but Al was making me reread it after I'd screwed something simple up...again. Honestly though, I was half-believing he'd just hadn't thought up anymore lessons for me, too distracted trying to get into my pants and getting Newt to pay restitutions for halting his advances into my pants and making everyone else believe he'd already gotten into my pants and trying to convince me what a good idea it was to pretend that as well. Yeah, I guess he'd been a rather busy demon, too bad it all seemed to involve my pants.

Spending as much time as one could in a single sitting with that book only accounted for about 40 minutes. Then I placed the book neatly back on my desk, conquering the strong desire to chuck the irritating thing against the wall. But Al had already caught me "disrespecting" his precious books, and had made sure he'd driven home the importance of the proper care of items from his library he so graciously lent to me.

I used the floor sigil to jump to the workroom. The room was unlit, creepy, and cold, so I almost immediately jumped to the mundane kitchen instead. The damn screaming faces were ugly and pointedly creepy, but at least they were a quick form of transportation. The kitchen was lit normally and warm enough. At home, this would have been a perfect time for some sugar and chocolate heavy baking. But Al's kitchen didn't feel like home, and I rarely baked in it without having first lost a bet. Without a real idea in mind, I began poking around, mindfully avoiding anything not labeled and the dark and unexplored backs of the cabinets and pantry. Careful pawing through Al's disorderly kitchen revealed a pound of baker's chocolate, powdered sugar, vanilla, but I couldn't find flour to save my life. So much for cookies. But a bag of walnuts and a half carton of chocolate flavored soy milk settled it: I was making fudge.

I got the chocolate boiling in no time, added, stirred, hummed, and sashayed about the kitchen in an attempt to keep my mind occupied and convince myself I was having a good time. The chocolate smelled amazing, even with the hint of burnt amber that I could still make out. I added a few drops of vanilla to my ooey gooey mix then had to pause to sniff the bottle. It was just vanilla, but it smelled damn good to me. I dabbed a bit on my neck and wrists just for fun, got my concoction off the burner to add the soy and stirred it all into a puddle of dark chocolate bliss and before placing my pan of desperate-distraction fudge into the freezer to set. Now I had more wait time. Wonderful.

I guess I can't say I wandered back into the library. The sigils kind of require intent to move about, but I didn't have anything in mind though, really. I knew not to touch Al's books; he kept plenty of nasty things in his library and I had no interest in getting any fingers bitten off. It was chillier than the kitchen, and I made the fire up before draping myself in of the big chairs flanking the couch.

I didn't think, just buried my face into the chair and inhaled. God, what the hell was wrong with me? I could smell the burnt amber deeply ingrained in the fabric of chair and pillows, but under that was something else. Al's smell, musky and rich and sinfully delicious because I knew I should know better.

My jeans were looser than they should've been. Irregular dinner times and foraging in a demon's kitchen apparently makes a good diet plan. I slipped my hand down the front of my pants, my face still buried in the chair, pulling Al's scent deep into my lungs while I touched myself. God it felt like it had been forever, and I gasped and rubbed myself faster, trying to exhaust the burning need that had reawakened in me with just his smell and the fire flicking shadows across the library. I rose back up to my knees, grinding against the edge of the chair, trying to recapture just a hint of what I'd had before the stupid summoner had to go and summon away my stupid demon who spread his summoning name around like a stupid teenager writing phone numbers in the men's bathroom stall. I pushed a finger then another into myself, slowing down only to quicken my pace into a frenzy, and though I plenty wet and more than willing, I couldn't achieve what Al had done to me earlier, which is pretty screwed up since I was a twenty-six year old woman and should be able to manage to get myself off.

My moan of frustration was drowned out by the growl that echoed throughout the library. I froze with my hand down my pants, turned in the chair enough to see Al's silhouette beside the fireplace.

"Don't stop on my account, Rachel," Al's voice was dry and distant as if he couldn't care less that I was finger fucking myself in his chair, but I could see his red goat-slitted eyes glittering in the firelight. I pulled my face mere inches from the chair and breathed in, as if hoping to catch the scent of his own arousal. I could smell him, the burnt amber smell stronger now that he was present, and his own male muskiness with the lovely soft and sharp scents of his soap. But I couldn't ignore the metallic tang in the air around him, the reek of a good quantity of fresh blood.

I pulled my hand out of my pants, fiddled with my buttons even though they were fine and refused to meet Al's eyes again.

But Al had other ideas. He was beside the chair before my heart could jump into my throat. I tried to lunge away, really tripped over my own two feet and fell out of the chair, but I didn't want Al pinning me. Well, okay, maybe that's exactly what I wanted, but I wasn't going to let him do it covered in blood and smelling like a slaughter house.

"You stay the hell away from me," I shouted as I sprung to my feet and backed away from him, my voice quivering yet still not managing to sound very afraid. I sounded like a bad actress, like I was teasing, damn it.

But Al didn't move. He was kneeling by the chair and I felt like a moron; he hadn't been trying to pin me at all. Away from the fireplace, I could see him better, and didn't see any evidence of eviscerated summoners staining his velvet frock coat or marring his perfect face. But there was the undeniable smell of blood about him.

"Come now, Rachel, aren't we past playing these games?" Al said lightly, but the look on his face was anything but relaxed.

I tried to force my thundering heart back down into my chest cavity and watched him as he slowly came back up to his feet, his red eyes never leaving my face. It wasn't flattering, it was like being watched by the biggest lion at the waterhole.

"What happened?" I managed to ask.

Al turned his head to the side, watching me like I'd performed a new trick, or perhaps reached a new level of stupidity. "I told you, itchy witch. I was summoned. I had no choice."

"Don't give me that crap. It's your own fault for flinging your name all over the place," I shouted, _like a street corner whore,_ I thought,but I gulped back the rest of that tirade under Al's unfaltering eyes, then asked what I really wanted to know. "Did you kill him?"

"Them, actually," Al said dryly, sniffed as if it was terrible manners for me to even ask who he'd recently murdered. The jerk.

"And some, yes. Others, I let get away," Al said with a shrug, as if it really didn't matter to him in the slightest. Which it probably didn't, he'd been doing it for so long.

"I can't believe I almost slept with you!" I shouted, angry at him but angrier at myself for being so dumb. God, I knew it was Al, my dastardly demon, but still, I couldn't stand to hear him talking so calmly about killing people, people who had just been dumb to summon him and terribly, ridiculously unlucky at choosing a very inopportune time to do it.

Al growled, and it wasn't the kind of growl he used to make my skin raise itself up to be caressed by the roughness his tone promised. No, it was a truly pissed off growl, and I shrank further away from him until the wall smacked my back.

"Why should it worry you? They were black witches, Rachel. Summoned me with cremation ashes and everything. I wouldn't be surprised if the blood they drew the circle with was from some defenseless, elderly old lady who had the simple misfortune of living next to them," Al said smoothly, though the anger was still there, hot and potent, in his eyes.

"That's not the point! You didn't kill them because they were black witches, you killed them because they summoned you in the middle…" here I stopped, my face flushed.

"Yes," Al said, no argument there. I tried to retrieve my wits, but Al's look kept me stammering. "You begged me not to go," he reminded me, and I felt my face flusher further and looked down at the coiling designs on the carpet instead.

And suddenly he was there, not pushing me or throwing himself on me the way I kind of wished he would. But standing in front of me, not touching, just close enough I could feel the heat of him. "You begged me, you loved it, and then you waited here, fucking yourself while tasting my scent," Al said, lowering his face to mine so his breath tickled my cheek, but nothing more.

"I didn't wait here the _entire_ time," I complained, but didn't have any more argument for him. His eyes watched mine as his head dipped lower, his lips softly coming to rest on my lips.

"Rachel," he said simply, his lips gliding down my neck, softly tasting my skin.

"Al, you smell like blood," I said, needing something to get the fuzzy haze from my mind. God, I wanted him, even if he did smell.

Al's eyes widened a bit, like I had actually surprised him, but I felt the tug of the line, the quick wash of ley line energy going through him, even felt little ripples of it prickling against my skin. But then it was gone, and so was the smell. It was just Al and me and no more excuses or distractions.

As if reading me thoughts, Al leaned into me, and I gasped, wrapping my arms around him as he licked and nipped at my neck.

"You could get summoned again," I said breathlessly, and Al growled against my skin. Before I could protest or squirm away, he turned me to the wall and pinned me there with his body. Oh god, this was feeling somewhat familiar. I damn near felt my heart beat descend to my groin. I shuddered when Al rubbed teasingly against me.

"It's daytime, sweets. No worries about being interrupted again," Al purred in my ear, his breath burning against my bare skin, his hands rough and possessive on my hips.

"It's nighttime somewhere, Al," I said reasonably enough. After all, he seemed intent of making my dream reality, and I was doing damn good if words, let alone cognizant sentences, were still issuing from my mouth.

"Yes, but no where I'm likely to be summoned to," Al said between his licks and bites, mostly bites though. He worried my skin with his teeth, and I wondered if he hadn't taken all his frustrations out on the poor dumb summoners.

"Playing around in the kitchen again?" he asked, his tongue darting out to taste my pulse, lingering where I'd scented myself with vanilla. "After what happened last time, my fluff-headed itchy witch?" He pulled my mass of tangled red curls aside.

"Wasn't my fault," I managed to mumble, pushing back against him when he nibbled at the nape of my neck.

"I know how to keep you from straying," Al growled into my ear, pushing harder, forcing me nearly flat against the wall, his muscled body and hard groin molded to my back and tight against my ass.

"Oh. God. Al." I managed between clenched teeth. One hand released its grip to snake higher and cup my breast. Then he ripped my shirt, right down the middle, and tugged the rest of it off me while grinding his hips against me. I gasped and pushed back against him, all reservations dead again when his body was flush against mine and his mouth sucking at my skin like I was coated in chocolate.

Which reminded me. "I didn't sit around the whole time. I made fudge," I said, my words mumbled against the wall.

Al paused for a moment, and I tried to take the opportunity to turn back and face him. But kept me pinned and ran one large, warm hand over my stomach, leaving a rippling wave of line energy in his wake and making me shiver. "Excellent. We'll have it with our coffee. Or maybe as a snack, later, when you need a reprieve," Al said in my ear, and I sighed my agreement, too distracted for words as one of his hands was finally working at my fly, pushing my jeans and panties down and giving me enough room to awkwardly kick them off. But then he was back up against my naked flesh, keeping me mostly immobile as he spread me, his fingers stroking and circling before pushing into me, picking back up the rhythm as if we'd never been interrupted in the first place.

But he didn't keep it soft and slow for long. "Al!" I cried out, fingernails digging into the wall, my nipples damn near bruising as I jerked about between the hard wall and harder demon. His teeth closed on the side of my neck, hard enough to bruise, damn near sharp enough to draw blood, and I felt the line inside me as much as his fingers were. The line energy was torrid and wild and smelled like Al as it pulsed through my body. Whimpering and moaning, I came, rocking my hips as much as I could and clenching so tight I was surprised Al could get his fingers free.

Suddenly it wasn't the feeling of his velvet coat and hard erection against tight fabric anymore. He was as naked as I was, but I hadn't even felt the ripple of the line at the spell he used. But then again I was still panting and plenty distracted.

I wanted to collapse for a bit, feeling the heat of his skin burning against mine, letting him damn near hold all my weight as I slumped, boneless between my demon and the wall. But Al was anything except boneless and he had other ideas.

Al pushed a leg in between mine, and I had to hold myself up again to spread further for him. He gave me a smidgen of room, letting me angle my hips. But then I felt him, hard and huge, sliding past my lips, pushing at my entrance, and I tensed up.

"God damn, Al," I said. I knew demons could spell their appearances, and sure, every guy wanted to be big. But there were limits on such things.

"Relax, Rachel," Al chuckled, and didn't give me a chance to do anything else. He pushed inside me, and something between a gasp and a cry emerged from my mouth. God damn. I clawed at the wall, wishing some of him was available for me to hold onto and scratch the hell out of. He grunted behind me, continuing to work himself in while I writhed. I knew I was more than ready and plenty wet, but he damn near felt like he was burning inside me as he thrust and pushed, forcing my flesh to accommodate his huge cock.

I shouted when he pulled all the way out, though I wasn't sure if it was more protest or relief.

"Can't you size it down or something?" I asked between pants. Al chuckled and closed his mouth at the base of my neck and I shuddered at the wet kisses he laid there. Serves me right for asking a guy to use a shrinking spell on his junk.

"And what would be the fun in that?" Al teased when he'd lifted his mouth far enough from my skin. Without warning his teeth were in my neck and the line energy he'd kept in his chi that I'd been too distracted to sense filled me up like liquid lightning. I threw my head back and moaned as the ley line energy coursed through me, jolting awake every neuron, filling every synapse. Al entered me again, and the ache of his size was muted by the sizzling energy. I tried to turn again, to grip him and hold him and bite him back, but Al gripped my waist and held me there against the wall as he worked his cock all the way inside me. This was beyond how even a non-witch could fill me, and Al grunted in my hair when he got to the end of me. I pushed back against him, loving the feel of his burning skin sliding against mine and how his hips tightly cupped my ass when he had his huge cock buried as deep in me as it would go.

With the ley line energy coursing between us he started to move, his hips a slow, rolling caress, his thrusts both gentle and punishing in his thorough, deep penetrations. I shuddered, clenching tight enough around him to make him moan in my hair. His hips thrust against my ass a little more quickly, pinning me firmly against the wall with nowhere to go, though I'd be lying if I said I minded. The line energy was fizzling out between us, draining out like sand in a sieve but there was still enough of it pooled in my groin to make me feel aflame and aching as the sluggish sparks passed from his skin to mine everywhere we touched.

This time I felt the imbalance as he tapped a line and filled his chi again. I dug my nails into the wall, trying to find something to hold onto, something to ground myself from the sensations, feeling adrift and unreal with Al's hot pants tickling my ear, his chest slick against my back, his hips pinning me as his thrusts pummeled me and thick cock filled me and damn near burned inside me in the most exquisite, aching feeling that I knew I'd be feeling the bruising from tomorrow morning. Or tonight. Whatever. Al moaned again in my hair and that was all the warning I got. Everything his chi was holding and then some came rushing into me, and I screamed as I came again, ripping furrows in the wood paneling, shoving myself back against him hard enough to almost make him stumble, and somehow getting a hand between me and the wall as leverage to help him fuck me. Al even held still for a moment, letting me set the pace before catching me and upping the ante. He slammed into me, fast and bruising, and I couldn't do anything but moan and pant and continue shoving back against him despite the throb that had nothing to do with orgasm tightening in my groin and lower stomach. With the line burning through us, even the rough stuff was amazing, and I didn't want it to stop.

But at the pace, there was no way we could go on forever. I felt Al's whole body rigid and taut like stone behind me, felt his hard thrusts becoming wild, desperate as he fucked me raw. I knew I was damn close again, felt flutters of warmth escaping from the knot of ache and need at my core. I tried to call out to him, to let him know, but he shoved into me brutally, tearing a scream from my mouth that curled up on itself into a drawn out moan when he slowed enough to do it again, and a third time before returning to the desperate, frenzied movements, plunging in and tearing out of me, making me clench and shudder and cry out for more. Moans and curses in a language I didn't know were spilling from his lips, his breath burning on my bare neck almost as much as his cock ramming inside me. I felt him gather the line into himself again, and cried out in anticipation. But my orgasm beat him to it. I hadn't realized how much I was holding, didn't even have time to pull any of it back. The world was white and rushing, my body struggling against him of its own accord. I screamed and came, and Al's roar echoed hard and harsh against the walls of the library as I poured everything he'd given me back into him in one blinding rush of energy. I felt his teeth enter the nape of my neck, felt him seize and spurt inside me, his seed even hotter than our burning skins. My body reacted, gripping him tighter, keeping him in me as we finished together.

I sagged against the wall, letting him take my weight, hold me crushed against him, and let the world dissolve into ache and satisfaction, relearning how to breathe with the little aftershocks of pleasure still dancing up and down my nerves. His lips were soft against my neck, my cheek, his hands tracing up my sides, soothing, questioning, but I had no response for him right now. His whisper of my name was just another buzz in my ringing ears. I let go of it all and drifted with the scents of sex and burnt amber.

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There will be no other updates until school finishes second week of December. I only finished it now out of overwhelming guilt =/


	14. Warm Fuzzies

_**Chapter 14: Warm Fuzzies**_

_No, you're not hallucinating, it's really an update! Yeah, I know I am terrible. This is why I stick to writing one shots… But I had no drive because the last books had more than satisfied my Ral cravings. Perfect Blood is excellent and wonderful and exciting, but didn't do it for me in the Ral department. So yeah, trying to finish "Roommates" and working on another Ral fic to be released after the new book comes out. If you have something crazy and fun you want to see happen in "Roommates", message me or leave it in a review. I have a rough idea of where to go, but more crazy fun is always better._

_And you don't have to worry about long updates, next chapter is already written WOOT. I will update again in a few days. After that though…I AM trying!_

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The pain amulet around my neck helped, but I couldn't help but think it would be more effective placed lower on my body. I wasn't being a wuss, really, but my lower regions were certainly feeling the burn from my…well, "our" was more appropriate I guess, work out. Not to mention I really did have a new set of bruises on my chest from that damn wall and my hips from Al's clutching hands. Probably elsewhere too, but I was too exhausted to really check. I turned a bit, careful not to wake him and settled in more comfortably. I felt like I could sleep a hundred years now. Al had interrupted my sleep before he had been summoned away, and I hadn't been able to get anymore winks while I waited for him. Now I was paying for it, and that was entirely fine with me. Al's bed certainly wasn't a twin, and though the linens were inundated with the smell of burnt amber, it was a luxurious bed. The dark sheets were probably silk, and I had a thicker, warmer blanket cocooned around me. Something about having his warm and naked body next to me, his face buried in my unruly curls and one arm thrown over my waist, was beyond comforting…it was fitting and made my sore muscles feel warm and my eyelids feel like lead. I tried telling myself it was from a combination of things: the stress of being in the ever-after, amazing demon sex, my previous lack of meaningful relationships since Kisten, mind-blowing sex with Al, the damaged I'd managed to inflict on myself from the sun, Al's burning body molded to my back, fear from having to testify against Newt, the possibility we'd caused structural damage to that wall in the library…

I ran my fingers lightly over the much larger hand spread across my belly. Al had carried me to bed even though we'd still been joined together, my witch…errr demon hormones reminding me how long it had been and simply refusing to let go of Al's manly bits. He hadn't even complained with how long it took for me to finally release him, didn't comment though I'd turned seven shades of red from embarrassment. He'd gotten a pain amulet for me and we curled up in bed together, the gentle display a stark contrast to how he'd fucked me against wall. But I wouldn't have wanted it different; we'd both waited too damn long, and gentle hadn't been in the cards for our first time.

Al's bare chest was hot against my back, the slow movements of his breath lulling. My eyes fluttered shut. I was damn tired enough, but my thoughts kept chasing around madly in my head like Trent's damn dogs on the trail of something. I tried telling myself I would deal with the morning in the morning. I didn't regret it, I had wanted him and was fairly certain I still did, or at least once my tender bits had recovered, but my doubts and concerns wouldn't be easily soothed. Al mumbled something in his sleep and the puff of breath on my neck tickled. I twisted a bit to get away, and his arm tightened around my waist.

"None of that now, Rachel. I caught you fair and square." He pressed his lips under my ear and I wiggled more despite that the motion didn't help the soreness in my groin and hips.

"Caught me? I must've screwed your brains out, because last time I checked, I'm the one who has tricked you, escaped you, outwitted, out smarted, and generally come out on top in all our dealings." Yeah, I was sleepy, but I wasn't going to pass this up. What's the point of having a naked demon sprawled out next to you if you couldn't tease him a bit?

Al grunted, and if he hadn't been awake before, he was certainly waking up now. And I was suddenly more awake too, adrenaline flooding my system as Al seized me and rolled me under him faster than I could gasp in surprise.

"You're not on top this time, love," Al purred in my ear. He was heavy on top of me and pushing me down into the bed, making my muscles complain and clench despite the pain amulet. To drive home his point, his thrust his hips against mine, and I gasped as the soreness evolved into pain.

"Al," I said through gritted teeth, "get off!"

"You appear to me thoroughly caught. But perhaps I ought to tie you up to make sure?" Al leered down at me, one eyebrow raised. He was clearly teasing, at least I thought he was, but it was anything except fun for me. And damn all raunchy demons, I could feel him getting hard against me again! I might have been in pain, but Al was obviously enjoying himself.

The growl that crawled out of my mouth wasn't weak and feigned this time. "Al, I feel like I've frickin' new holes between my legs, so get the hell off now or you'll never be between them again!"

It certainly had the desired effect. Al's eyes widened in surprise, but he lifted himself off me in a hurry. I gasped in relief and slugged him in the shoulder for good measure. "Jerk," I murmured, resting one hand low on my stomach and trying keep from whining. But hell's bells, that had hurt!

"Itchy witch?" Al asked, concern thick in his voice. I shrugged away from his reaching hands, but he turned me to face him, though he handled me significantly more gently than before.

"You're still hurting?" he asked, and despite it so being his fault, I felt bad for a moment. Not only was he concerned, he sounded apologetic. I seriously hadn't thought I would get Al to apologize for his massive manly bits and the rough ways he used them, but then again, maybe I could convince him to size it down if he did feel sorry for leaving me aching afterwards. But I wasn't really sure I would want him to shrink his junk anymore. I was feeling the consequences of it now, but it had been worth it earlier.

I tried to look at him, but the bedroom was dark and all I could make out was the sharp outline of his chin and the slight gleam of his goat-slitted eyes. I settled for touching his face instead, tracing fingers softly over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose before running my fingers through the fine, curling hair at his temples. He caught my fingers and pressed them to his lips, and I had a hard time staying mad at him.

"I'm just sore, that's all. So don't be climbing all over me. I know I'm demon candy, but you're just going to have to wait." I pressed my lips into his shoulders, hoping he wouldn't take it the wrong way, but also hoping he'd get the damn hint and reign in the snake.

"I didn't plan on hurting you, Rachel." His voice was quiet, almost something I could have imagined in the dark bedroom. But I wasn't imagining it, he'd said it. And while not the most endearing apology, it was one of the few I'd ever heard from my demon.

"I told you before, Al. You're just too damn big," I tried to sound more joking than angry, but there was a pause again, a long and awkward one. Damn men and their damn touchy pride.

"It was…great, totally worth it, Al," I said, and felt more than heard his rumble of approval. "But maybe we can not try to knock down a wall next time?"

There was a pause, and I thought maybe he was mad or asleep again or something, but I felt one of his hands cup my face before his lips found mine. The tingle of pleasure that didn't have to do entirely with the ley lines traveled all the way down my spine. I kissed him back, and what had been a soft, exploring kiss turned into something more. He pulled me closer to him and one hand traveled down to my chest, his large and callused hand gentle when cupping my breast and leisurely massaging the nipple with his thumb. Unmindful of my aches, I pressed harder against him, tracing my fingers along his muscled hip despite the heavy stirring of his groin that twitched against my leg.

But Al was the one who pulled back, releasing my lips and placing a hand between us when my own started traveling lower on his body.

Al hummed in my hair, his free hand catching my own since I hadn't been deterred and had brushed my fingers softly over his growing erection. "Sweet like candy, indeed, my itchy witch."

And bad for your teeth if you indulged too much. Damn, I had been trying to cool it down, not get him going again. But it was hard with him here and ready with both of us naked. I had a visceral memory of earlier tonight, his hips molded against my ass as he pushed himself into me, pulling moans and gasps from my mouth as his cock had plowed as deep into me as he could go. My eyes fluttered as a trickle of line energy sluggishly moved from his hand to mine. That had been amazing too, the line burning in me even as his hot flesh drove against me, both sensations on the borderline of pain and making the pleasure and satisfaction even greater for it.

"God, Al," I moaned. His lips came back to mine, a mere brush before trailing down my face. Keeping a firm grip on my hands, he began licking along my jaw line and neck, and I shuddered from it, wantings and warnings swirling around meaninglessly in my head.

"But I'll have plenty of time to indulge my sweet tooth later," Al murmured against my skin, his tongue tasting the skin over my pulse before withdrawing. "Now, however, is the time for all good little itchy witches to go to bed." His tone was back to mocking, but I didn't have it in me to try and smack him again. Carefully but forcefully, he turned me so my back was pressed against his chest, our bodies cradled around each other. I could clearly feel his hard cock pressed against my ass. God, how was I going to get to sleep now? His arms wrapped around me, keeping me snug against him.

"Go to sleep, Rachel," he whispered into my ear, and my eyelids descended in compliance. I was still achy, and now ridiculously turned on, but it seemed less of an issue pressed against Al. I told myself again I would deal with it in the morning. A smile I couldn't suppress spread across my face at the thought of how I could deal with Al in the morning…


End file.
